


Carry Me Home

by oninofukuchou (OrderOfRevan)



Category: Hakuouki
Genre: F/M, Hamamura Makoto, Minor alterations to Canon, Non-Explicit Sex, Slow Burn, historical fiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-07-04 10:49:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 58,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15839697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrderOfRevan/pseuds/oninofukuchou
Summary: Makoto saw him and knew, somehow, that he was her muse.The man in the sky blue coat the Miburo wore.Hijikata Toshizou.





	1. Hope, and Other Abstract Concepts

**Author's Note:**

> You have no idea how frightened I am to post this.
> 
> I ask that you please be kind to me, as I have never written a fan character and a canon character together in a story before.

The first time she saw him, he was on patrol. 

Immediately she knew that he had to be one of the Miburo, what, with the way his haori reflected the colors of a cearly sky after a storm. It was impossible not to notice him, even in the crowded streets of the capital where nearly anyone could become lost in the crowd. 

He made himself known, striding forward with nothing short of perfect confidence, head held high with the look of a man who knew what he wanted etched into his features. Back when she had lived in Edo she had often seen such expressions on the faces of the men who made their way to and from Edo Castle. It was an expression common to samurai, but there were other things about him, too -- 

Compelling things, things that contradicted that image, that made him into her muse from the second her eyes fell upon him. 

Because when he looked at people, it may be with the tilt of a samurai’s chin and the shape of a samurai’s frown, but the eyes that fell upon them weren’t the eyes of a samurai. They were proud, she’d thought so from the first time she’d seen them, dark but bright, shining violet like the fabric of some courtesan’s fine kimono. 

But it wasn’t the sort of pride that stemmed from the entitlement she’d come to expect from highborn samurai who’d never had to struggle for a thing in their life. It also wasn’t exactly the weird and wild hunger she’d seen in the faces of many roshi, something that could border on arrogance if they weren’t careful.

Instead, it was quiet. 

Confidence and certainty acquired after years of practice, through battles won and glories achieved, something she recognized in herself. 

The same confidence that she tried to funnel into her own work right this moment as she took brush to paper again, trying to craft images from memories and sensations, to bring feelings to life from the abstract. Around her, other customers of the familiar tea shop mired, locked in quiet conversations with one another and leaving her largely to her own devices. 

No one really cared what she did as long as she worked hard at her job as a serving woman, though she wasn’t really stranger to the occasional odd look. To be her age and to not be attached to any man was an unattractive trait, but she didn’t exactly have the bearing to be a good wife anyway, or the beauty to be a good courtesan, and none of the status that would entitle her to a good marriage in the first place. 

All she could really do was hope to marry a mediocre man, raise his children, and spend the rest of her life working … Like every man and woman spent their life working. 

But that kind of thing, that sort of path … 

She knew in her heart that it had never suited her. 

The sound of commotion drew her attention away from her quiet work, her dark eyes settling on the shape of a pair of men as they walked into the building. Immediately, her eyes fell to their hips, where swords sat;  silent and deadly companions that she didn’t trust in the slightest. 

The tension slowly began to mount as more and more people became aware of their presence there. Conversation seemed to grow louder all at once, the sense of forced cheerfulness mounting to a pitch that reminded her of the humming of cicadas, something one could overlook, if used to it, but it was fairly obvious nonetheless. 

If the roshi noticed, they didn’t give any particular indication, shuffling over to the proprietor and speaking in quiet voices. She didn’t bother to try to overhear them, mostly because she knew that she wouldn’t really be able to over the dim of forced conversation, though a part of her didn’t want to get involved in this kind of business. The things that even masterless samurai did were only the problem of the people because they made sure of it, just like everything the samurai did. 

But it was their right, and in the best of times the samurai worked to defend and provide for the people; just as Confucius said, while speaking as the very voice of the seat of Heaven itself. 

It’s just now…

It wasn’t the best of times. 

Just like she thought it would, their voices started to get louder, more angry. She could practically feel the aggression coming off of them in waves, like the feeling of a pulse through warm flesh, anxiety mounting as she stared down at the characters on her page without really seeing them. Before long, there was a loud sound as the owner of the shop was pulled across the counter he stood behind, knees hitting the wood painfully. 

Makoto flinched, her own eyes aching at the phantom impact. 

There was more rattling and she closed her eyes, the sound of conversation finally dying on the lips of the tea house’s occupants. It was silent except for the whimpering and begging of the owner, and then… 

Then the sound of heavy footsteps tromping through the dirt and stopping at the threshold of the shop, and a loud voice that she recognized shattering the silence like a mallet against porcelain. 

“This is the Shinsengumi! You’re under suspicion of illegal activity!” Makoto looked up, eyes drawn to the voice and the face it belonged to, a slender man with pale skin and hair so black it looked almost blue. “Surrender, or you’ll be shown no mercy!” 

The Roshi dropped the man to the floor, his body hitting the wood below, and Makoto immediately stood as soon as she heard the sound of steel being drawn from a scabbard. Rushing behind them, she ducked behind the counter, reaching out with her small hands to help pull the owner to his feet and lead him farther away from the battle that was already starting to rage. 

“Is there a back way out?” she asked him suddenly, looking up into his face, watching as his eyes watered with pain. 

Still, the middle aged man nodded and began to quietly approach tables, Makoto standing with her hand against a support pillar as she watched patron after patron slip away. It left her feeling grateful, especially when the first of the death screams sounded, and a body hit the ground with a wet thud. 

She spun, watching as a silver streak arched through the air and one of the roshi crumpled underneath his own weight, folding like a fan. Behind him stood her muse, the man with the flowing black hair and those deep violet eyes, his gaze flickering towards her for only a moment before he turned around and met a blow at his shoulder with a parry. Blood followed his sword, dripping from the blade like water from a roof after a storm, one drop at a time falling onto the ground and staining the wood below. 

It was her first time seeing something like this so close, and the acrid smell of blood made her throat lurch and her stomach twist. Immediately, she brought the sleeve of her kimono up to her face before she took a step back and pressed her back against the pillar, her eyes growing wide as she stared at the display of brutality before her. 

Once, she had heard someone describe swordplay as graceful, beautiful, even… 

But if it was beautiful, it was only in the elegant simplicity of its savagery. Beautiful only because it ended a conflict before it could really begin if wielded by the hands of a true warrior, her thoughts painfully punctuated by the sound of another body falling to the ground. There was no grace in the movements, just purpose, like a brush wielded by one who knew the limits of their own body. 

She recognized expertise, and concentrated on that to avoid looking at the morbid corpses staring to litter the tea house floor. 

No sooner had she had those thoughts than the tea house suddenly fell into deafening silence, the soft tap of blood falling from a blade the only noise as she found herself completely alone with the Shinsengumi stranger. His eyes strayed towards her, lips tugging into a frown as their gazes locked and he flicked his blade to rid it of carnage before returning it to its place at his side, taking a step towards her as more men in blue haori slipped into the tea house. 

Quickly, she turned on her heel to walk towards the back exit, desperately trying to escape the sights and smells that suddenly assailed her. Only managing to control her trembling through sheer willpower, she gasped when she exited into a back alleyway, staring up at the sky as she gulped in deep breaths of fresh air. An afternoon breeze carried the scents of normal life toward her, the noises of a busy Kyoto street drifting past her and grounding her back in the present, in a world beyond the death inside the building she’d left behind. 

The sound of sandals against wood caused her to turn around, looking back through the open shoji to find that the man with the intense stare had followed her. He stood, blood that wasn’t his own staining his haori, with his arms crossed over his chest as he looked down into her face with the same intensity that’d been there since the very first time she’d glimpsed him walking down the streets of Kyoto. 

“You have some stones on you, sticking around,” he said, his voice too rough to be conversational. “Not many people would’ve tried to get everyone out like that.” 

She took in a deep breath as she struggled to find her voice, rubbing her own arms as she tore her eyes from him and looked off towards the remaining patrons milling about the alleyway. Makoto was almost certain that they’d stuck around to try to figure out exactly what was happening, and could see a few of them drifting closer to eavesdrop. 

Oddly, it was comforting in this situation. 

“Things like this  happen pretty frequently,” she said, trying to smile, though the muscles in her face felt stiff and unresponsive. “The capital is a dangerous place no matter how you look at it.” 

He nodded briskly, then offered her an awkward sort of bow, little more than a nod of acknowledgement. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Kyoto’s a shit place to live for the uninitiated, especially if you can’t fight.” 

The man paused, his eyes scanning her again as if to size her up, the unspoken implications of her gender hanging between them. Still, it didn’t seem to bother him the way she thought it might, a lone woman “getting in the way” of a fight between warriors. Instead, he just breathed out a soft sigh and took another few steps toward her, never breaking eye contact. 

“What’s your name?” 

She smiled at him, breaking eye contact to stare back down the alleyway watching people move about the busy bit of street she could see from where she stood. Out here, things seemed so normal but she knew that there could be any number of dangerous roshi traveling the streets right now. 

No one in the capital would admit it, but groups like the Shinsengumi were important. 

They kept the peace here, stopped citizens from being harassed by ‘patriots’ using the political situation to try to win fortune for themselves. Even so, she couldn’t exactly blame the roshi, either, not really. Things weren’t like they were in the past, during the time of daimyo such as Oda Nobunaga and Date Masamune -- the Tokugawa Bakufu had changed the country, shaped it into the image of the victor. 

But with all she’d read, she knew for certain that was the way of war. 

The victor always wrote his version of history, depleting his enemies to little more than monsters, oni that had tortured him in his noble pursuit … No matter how base or selfish his motivations actually were. Men often gave in to their baser impulses, Makoto knew that, believed that, and yet… 

She couldn’t quite believe that people were born evil, either. 

“Hamamura Makoto,” she said, bowing to him as she spoke. “Thank you for all you do for the people of Kyoto.”

His stare turned brazen, the snort that followed her words coming from somewhere deep in his chest, amused rather than dismissive. “Have to admit that’s the first time I’ve ever had anyone thank me, but… You don’t quite talk like you’re from around here.” The man paused, and Makoto watched as he reached up, running his thumb thoughtfully over his bottom lip. “Where you from?”

She blinked at him, then answered, “Edo.” 

The expression that moved over his features started in his eyes and spread outwards, like a ripple across the surface of a still pond. “That explains it,” he said with a nod. “You’re an Edo woman.” 

She was about to ask him what that had to do with anything when another man in the blue haori stepped up beside him, his dark hair like a midnight sky, eyes as blue and bright as the morning. For a moment he glanced at her, but then he spoke, though not before bowing his head respectfully towards the man with the violet eyes. 

“Vice Commander,” he said softly, his voice surprisingly deep and resonant in spite of the obvious youth of his pale, unblemished face, “there are reports of further activity a few blocks over.” 

The words Vice Commander froze Makoto in her place, rumors dancing through her mind like mischievous little sprites, doubt blooming in the wake of their footsteps. She’d heard all kinds of stories about the Vice Commander of the Shinsengumi, that he was as cold as Ezo’s long winters and as ruthless as an oni, possessing a command of his people that bordered on tyrannical. The people of Kyoto whispered of his penchant for blood, of how he made men commit honorable suicide for his own sick amusement, though she had a hard time believing that. 

He spoke earnestly, his words like the Edo countryside that she’d visited once or twice before the uncle who lived there had passed away of tuberculosis. There was no deceit in them, no pretense, just like the pride in his eyes, the sort of thing that was exactly as it appeared … Even though she knew that people were never that simple. 

But when he spoke, he only confirmed what she had heard, painting him in a brush stroke that should have made her fear him but somehow only made him all the more interesting to her. 

“I’ll be right there, Saito. Go on ahead of me,” he said as he turned back to her. “I’m Hijikata Toshizou, and I can’t offer you any kind of official compensation for your service from the Aizu, but you should at least let me repay you some time. It’s a lot less of a pain to clean up when no one’s there to get in the way.” 

“Hijikata-san,” she said, with another bow of her head, “it’s really not necessary, but I’ll accept your gracious offer.”

His eyes slid over her one last time, and it seemed that he’d finally made a decision about exactly what kind of person she was because a thin smile graced his tight lips. He nodded once, curtly, and then turned around, pausing with his hand pressed to the side of the shoji as he looked over his shoulder. 

“Send a message to me at the Yagi House in Mibu,” he said, “and we’ll work something out.”

And with that he disappeared back into the tea house, his hair a black streak that left her with nothing but more questions and the burning sensation that he would be the thing that finally pushed her forward from the vast well of ‘inspiration’ to the uncertainty of ‘action’. 

 

\---

 

“You’re a writer?” he asked, sitting across from her in a way that suggested he had the manners of a farmer and not a samurai. “Never met a proper one before.”

“I’m a writer, but in spirit more than practice,” she said, letting herself smile as she pressed her cup to her lips and took a long drink of her tea. “You have no idea how difficult it is for someone who isn’t a courtly lady to have her opinions heard.”

Makoto watched him lean back, looking at her with his always sharp eyes, eyes that would constantly scan anyone he was talking to from head to toe before speaking. She’d noticed it the more time she spent with him, the way he interacted with the world, how he’d approach everything like it was a challenge to be overcome. There was a shrewdness to him, a cleverness that bubbled just beneath his exterior, somehow both rough and beautiful, a bit like a geode… 

If that geode were covered in gold and shone like a precious gemstone. 

“I have a better idea than you’d think,” he said, glowering into his cup like it had offended him, and somehow even that was interesting, though she couldn’t say why. “My advice to you?”

He raised his eyes, the deep violet of his gaze holding her in place, such an odd color only serving to accentuate his already remarkable features. Makoto was no idiot, and she knew that men like him seldom came around, that he had the sort of face that people wrote poetry about, though they’d compare his beauty to the fleeting nature of plum blossoms. 

She thought that kind of thing was contrived and predictable. 

Honestly, she’d rather compare Hijikata Toshizou-san to the smell before a storm, to the feeling of hairs standing on end as the wind picked up and the world was filled with a sense of anticipation. It was something just as momentary, something that had always sucked the breath from her lungs as she thought about how profound it felt in the moment as the entire world changed to muted tones and grayscale, making life look that much more like a woodblock print. 

And yet there was a danger to it, beneath the temptation to watch the rain fall and the wind bend trees, and lighting streak across the stormy and turbulent sky. 

In that feeling, there was the promise of fear and destruction as much as there was a taste of beauty. 

“Yes?” she asked him, waiting for him to say something more, always curious about what he’d tell her; after all, he had such an interesting way of looking at the world. 

“Don’t let them tell you that you can’t,” he said. “Nothing is the same since the foreigners dragged their blackships to our shores and forced the borders open.” She watched as a smile curved his lips and he leaned forward, placing his elbow on his knee as he looked at her. “Everything is changing, Hamamura-san.” 

“It’s true,” she agreed, running her finger thoughtfully around the rim of her cup. “The world doesn’t look the same at all. I see fear in places there wasn’t before, but there’s also a strange kind of hope. Sometimes…” she trailed off and then shook her head, realizing that it was probably too bold to speak so openly.

They’d only spoken a few times before this, always in tea houses like this one. 

But Hijikata-san didn’t seem to mind. 

Instead, he gave her a long look and then waved his other hand, prompting her to continue. “Sometimes…? Spit it out, Hamamura-san.” 

“Sometimes I wonder if things don’t have to get worse before they get better,” she said after sucking in a deep breath through her teeth. “I can’t see anything good coming from any of this, but even though the times we live in are horrible, I…”

She looked away, feeling her own lips curve int a smile as she stared out at the other patrons. Her voice dropped, and she spoke softly, her fists squeezed tightly on the table in front of her as she looked off into the distance. 

“I feel like I was meant to be here and see all of this, that I was supposed to live through it and remember.” 

She wasn’t a participant. 

Makoto knew she was just a woman, someone who was going to stand on the outside and watch everything happen, whatever it was. But that didn’t mean her words didn’t matter, and too often she thought about writing them down so that someone might see them someday. 

Because right now, they stood on the precipice of something, a shift in the balance of the universe. All of Heaven was waiting, waiting to wash away the stagnation of time with the rushing torrential waters of its invisible and immutable will. 

“You’d be good at remembering,” Hijikata-san said, nodding towards her as he took a drink of his tea. “You’ve got this way, Hamamura-san. Talking to you… Reminds me of some people, but not in a bad way.” 

He breathed out a sigh as he looked at her, his expression oddly subdued and thoughtful. “If you were a man, bet you’d be out there, just like us, fighting.” 

She wanted to ask him why he thought that but they were interrupted as one of his subordinates walked through the door, walking over to him to whisper something into his ear. Makoto watched his bright eyes narrow into slits before he breathed out a long, belabored sigh, and stood, reaching for the coin purse at his hip. 

“Take this,” he said, rummaging inside of the little bag for a moment before he placed coin on the table. “I have some business to take care of, but…” 

He watched her, his expression oddly unreadable as he stared down into her face. 

Then he shook his head and gave her a lopsided smile.

“You’re paying next time,” he said before turning on his heel and walking away, his subordinate hot on his tail.

Makoto reached out, her fingers brushing against the coins as she worried her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes unfocused. Somehow, the words ‘next time’ rang in her head and she found herself smiling in spite of herself at the thought, sighing as she shook her head and pocketed the money. 

“You’re really starting to like Hijikata-san, aren’t you?” 

The voice was soft and cheerful, but something about it was also piercing, and Makoto quickly turned her head to face the source… A young man dressed carelessly, a broad and unassuming grin on his face. His hair was messy and dark, his eyes clever and cat-like, making him look sly as he took Hijikata-san’s place across from her, his expression unfalteringly cheerful and completely unreadable. 

“And you are?” she asked, watching the grin on his face split his face even further in two. 

“Eh? Hijikata-san hasn’t told you about me?” he asked, pressing a hand to his chest in mock-offense. “I’m Okita Souji, another founding member of the Shinsengumi, and one of the assistant vice commanders.” 

Makoto shook her head from side to side, wrapping both of her hands around her rapidly cooling tea as she looked into his face. She was almost certain he was lying because one didn’t just admit to being a member of the Shinsengumi after all the stories about them extorting money from the citizens of Kyoto, terrorizing Sumo, and starting warehouse fires in Osaka. 

But… 

“Hijikata-san and I tend to discuss politics more often than we discuss his work,” she said to him at last, smiling slightly, “and when we’re not talking politics, we’re talking about other things.”

Like life back east, or rumors she’d heard around the city, and sometimes, like today, her dreams and ambitions and the ways she’d intended to achieve them. They were things she had once shared with her family until she realized that their love alone wasn’t enough to carry her where she wanted go and learned that she had to walk on her own feet. 

In his own way, that was something Hijikata-san understood. 

She could see it in his eyes. 

Okita drank in her words, his expression unwavering, though something flashed in the depth of those curious eyes. “So he comes here to drink tea and talk about normal things with you?” he asked, tilting his head quizzically. “I didn’t know he could still do that! And to be honest … I don’t really get it.” 

He leaned forward, his expression becoming oddly intense as he stared at her, head still tilted to one side. His grin never vanished but it quickly began to seem empty, like it didn’t mean anything at all, his stare turning chilling the longer that he stared at her with that look in his eye. 

“It would probably be best for you if you didn’t get involved with us,” Okita said in a conversational tone, the words stained savage by the look in his eye. “It’s not that I’m not happy that Hijikata-san has a friend, but … Well, if you want to have any kind of normal life, you’re probably best off just staying away.” 

She stared at him, wondering if it was a threat, or what was motivating him in the first place. The way he was looking at her now, she had no doubts that this man was every bit capable of killing without any kind of remorse or regret, but at the same time she… She couldn’t help but think that there had to be something more to him. 

No one was defined by just a single trait.

Makoto had learned that after years of watching others and navigating through life, one day at a time. She always put one foot in front of the other, trying not to look too far back or too far ahead, and she’d quickly realized that even the people she hated the most had reasons for what they did. 

Even if she could never forgive them, at least she could learn to understand them. 

“Maybe I don’t want a normal life,” she said at last, watching as the cold expression on his face shattered and his green eyes widened. “Maybe I think normal life is boring and I’m craving change and danger.” 

He blinked slowly and then started to laugh, waving over one of the servers with a wide movement of his hand. She watched as he ordered some dango and felt herself relax as he relaxed, his grin turning friendly as he turned back to face her. 

“Eh? Danger is it?” he said in a voice still thick with mirth. “Well, then I guess maybe you can stick around. Your life will probably be threatened at some point, so you don’t have to worry.” 

This time it sounded like he was actually joking, though she knew the threat to her life was very much real. The Shinsengumi were dangerous men who did a dangerous job and were hated far and wide by the people of Kyoto and the west at large, men who had the reputation of roshi even though they served the Aizu in an official capacity. 

But even so… 

“Kyoto’s dangerous anyway,” she said with a shrug and a small smile. “I’d rather get myself involved with the interesting kind of danger than live my life with the mundane and day to day risks everyone here faces. At least this way I have a chance of witnessing history happen.” 

“History, huh?” Okita looked at her for a long moment, his face losing its tension as he leaned back, gazing at her with his head tilted. “What kind of woman are you?” 

She smiled a bit, then looked away, staring at the dregs of her tea still in her cup. “Oh, I’m not so odd,” she said after a moment, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’m just like any other woman that dreams.” 

He didn’t respond immediately but he did keep looking at her, frozen with a thoughtful smile on his face. It made her wonder if all warriors had eyes like this, the kind of eyes that stripped someone down to their base components, because Hijikata’s eyes could do the same thing. Somehow, being here with him only made her realize how interesting warriors really were, and how the world they lived in was nothing like the world she belonged to. 

But.. 

She wanted to touch their world.

She wanted to be changed by it. 

“Yeah,” Okita finally said, “I guess you’re right. All people have dreams.”

There was something he wasn’t saying, but Makoto couldn’t really read him well. Hijikata wore his emotions in the open, annoyance and amusement all on his face, and one you started to figure him out you could reasonably predict what he was feeling. 

But Okita was different.

He hid himself behind a smile, like so many people did. 

Once more, she found herself wondering about his reasons. 

“So,” he continued, “what is your dream, Hamamura-san? Outside of putting yourself in mortal peril, that is.”

Makoto thought, knowing that what she really wanted more than anything was to write, ro record history in words so that the world didn’t forget what it felt like to live during these turbulent times. She wanted to paint pictures with words so that no one ever had to wonder what people were feeling and thinking, so that years from now someone could look back and read her words and connect with her across time. 

It was knowing what to write about that was the problem, even though she felt like she was alive so that she could remember, just like she’d told Hijikata, but… 

“I want to write about the Shinsengumi,” she said, holding her head high, “because I want people to remember you the way that I see you.”

Okita looked at her and smiled, the look on his face somewhere between awe and confusion, but their conversation was cut off by the arrival of his dango… 

And in a way, Makoto was grateful. 

 

\---

 

Now that she was involved with the Shinsengumi, Makoto was painfully aware that she really hadn’t had many friends to lose in the first place. Before meeting them, she’d been struggling just to get by day to day, working her job and then going to sleep and waking up and… 

The same thing, day in and day out, interacting with customers and her employer and the other women who worked at the establishment she served at, but it’s not as though any of them were exactly her friends. Even if her reputation took a hit, she was still learning a lot from all the times Okita would show up to bother her, sometimes with other members in tow.

But of course, the times she looked forward to most were Hijikata’s quiet visits. 

This time, though, he’d brought someone else… A man with a broad face and a broad smile, who sat down and immediately insisted on paying as he bowed his head in greeting. His voice was warm and friendly, his eyes a soft golden-brown color that reminded her of the color of a soothing broth, the sort of thing that would ease a sore throat when sick. 

His entire manner put her at ease, his earnestness infectious. 

“I’m Kondo Isami,” he said, his name immediately recognizable and… surprising. “I heard that Toshi was going to visit you today, and since Souji has also mentioned you… Well.” His smile somehow grew even wider, “I thought I should meet you, too.” 

“You’re the Shinsengumi’s Commander?” she asked, blinking back her surprise. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kondo-san. I’m --”

“Hamamura,” Hijikata cut her off, “relax. Neither of us are on duty right now so you can stop acting like you’ve just met a hatamoto or something.” 

“I wouldn’t phrase it quite that way,” Kondo said with a chuckle, “but really, it’s fine. If anything, I’m the one pleased to meet you. You’ve gotten Toshi to relax a bit, which is quite a feat, I assure you.” 

Makoto watched Hijikata cast Commander Kondo a withering look, but there was no real force behind it. The exchange, as brief as it was, clued her in to pay attention to an entire world of body language she hadn’t noticed until that moment. 

The way that they seemed so comfortable side by side, how Commander Kondo spoke to Hijikata with such high regard and a deep affection. Side by side, she could see how they worked together, Kondo tall and broad and smiling brightly with an unassuming and infectious kindness… And Hijikata, his shadow, slighter and sharper, with eyes that could cut as deeply and smoothly as a blade, observant but a powerful presence nonetheless. 

In that moment, she felt she understood why Hijikata was the Vice Commander. 

“I enjoy Hijikata-san’s company,” she said, “he’s good conversation and…” she looked down to the small book she’d started to bring with her everywhere. “He inspires me.” 

“Inspires you?” Kondo asked curiously, only for Hijikata to be the one to answer. 

“Hamamura’s a writer,” he explained. “I’ve never read anything she’s written, but I know that’s what she wants to do. It’s why she came here from Edo. To follow a dream.”

“Another Edo native?” Kondo asked, blinking slowly before smiling. “We seem to be encountering quite a few of those lately. Have you shown her your poetry, Toshi?” 

Makoto’s eyes widened, not from the idea that a samurai would write poetry, but from the blush that suddenly spread across Hijikata’s cheeks. She had never seen him make such an expression before, and he immediately looked away from her, as if ashamed that he was displaying the emotion at all. 

She felt her chest grow momentarily tight, the thought that his awkwardness was adorable briefly occuring to her before she leaned forward and spoke. “You write poetry, Hijikata-san?” 

“See, here you go,” Hijikata said, waving his hand towards her as he continued to glower at Kondo, “making me look like an idiot. Nothing I write is going to be half as good as anything she writes, so why bother?” 

“Well…” Kondo began, “I thought, maybe, she’d be interested in hearing that you have something else in common.” 

“Something else…?” Makoto asked, only for Kondo to answer her before Hijikata could even get a word in for himself. 

“You both were born to do greater things than the position you were born in to,” he explained with what she was beginning to suspect was his typically broad and gentle smile. “Toshi and I are just like you, Hamamura-san, men who strove for something beyond our station. I’m sure that’s why he believes you can accomplish your goals.” 

Men who strove for something beyond their station…

Makoto’s mouth formed a small ‘o’ shape as the pieces fell into place for her, eyes locking with Hijikata’s across the table. She had assumed maybe they’d been rural samurai, but… Now that she thought about it, she’d heard the Shinsengumi accepted anyone, regardless of the rank of their birth. It was part of what made them so remarkable to her, and if their leaders were not samurai by right of their lineage, then… 

It made sense that they’d accept anyone. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly, all his words about thinking she could succeed suddenly meaning that much more to her. “It’s good to know I’m not the only…” Makoto drew in a deep breath and shook her head, thinking about all the reasons she was alone. “I’m glad I’m not the only idiot who wants more.” 

“Hardly,” Hijikata said with a snort and a half-smile. “There are plenty of other stupid people in the world, Hamamura, and you were just lucky enough to find them.” 

She blinked and then laughed, reaching for her cup of tea just in front of her before raising it in a toast. Kondo laughed as well and followed suit, leaving Hijikata to roll his eyes and join them both as they all drank. 

It wasn’t quite sake, but… 

She smiled.

Somehow, all of this felt right. 

“Well,” she said, shaking her head, “then this is for all those stupid people, May we continue to follow our dreams like the fools we are… Until the end.” 

“Until the end,” Hijikata agreed, smiling at her from over the rip of his cup. 

The three of them began to talk, Makoto learning all about the early days at the Shieikan, about Hijikata’s time as a medicine peddler. She had no idea that his brother-in-law was one of the villager leaders out in Tama, but the world they’d grown up in was close enough to her own that she could picture it if she closed her eyes. 

This kind of nostalgic trip back to Edo made her miss home, rekindling a longing in her that she didn’t know she even had. As far as the people back home were concerned, she might as well be dead considering that she wasn’t a terribly dutiful daughter, the sort who had left before she could be seen by a matchmaker.

In truth, as much as she held Confucius to be right in other things … 

In regards to her own position as a woman, she chafed against her role. 

Eventually, Kondo excused himself, promising that he would come visit her later, that perhaps he’d bring some of the other men he’d told colorful stories about while Hijikata looked on with a fond expression on his face. Bold and impulsive Harada with a silken tongue and his brother-in-arms, honorable and brash Nagakura. Enigmatic Okita, and the reserved Saito… The kind Inoue Gezaburo and young and honest Todou Heisuke… Reserved and analytical Sanan, with his eye for detail and his understanding of the way humans interacted with their own government and culture. 

They were men she wanted to meet from the stories about them alone, and if she really intended to pursue her new dream… 

Maybe she would. 

“He likes you,” Hijikata said after they left, leaning back a bit in his seat. “Kondo-san’s not that difficult of a man to impress, but all the same …” She watched him breath out a sigh, brushing a strand of hair away from his eyes. “He told you stories about the dojo, back when we were just starting out, fools with a dream.”

His eyes flashed with the light of nostalgia and he pursued his lips, casting a look at her from underneath his eyelashes. She could see how relaxed he was, a far cry from the man barking orders that day in the tea house, or even the man she’d seen on patrol. It was easier to believe he was the same “Toshizou” from Commander Kondo’s stories, looking at him now, a man who was nothing like the Oni of his reputation. 

“Maybe he wants you to see a bit of yourself in it,” Hijikata mused, setting his cup down on the table. “Just like him, to try to help a perfect stranger, but… That’s something the two of you have in common. I knew that about you the moment you helped the patrons get out of that place the day we met.” 

“I couldn’t just abandon them,” she said, glancing down towards her hands, which still gripped the cup. “They needed my help, and I could offer it, so I... “

“You did a job most people wouldn’t take on,” Hijikata insisted, cutting her off. “Come on, I saw your face. You wanted to throw up, Hamamura, but you stood your ground anyway. Not everyone can face death like you did that day.”

She looked up at him, something in his tone of voice beckoning her attention. 

Hijikata looked back at her with an intense look in his eye, one that made the rest of the room around them fade away into nothing. Just like that, she was the only person there, the only person that mattered, because he made her feel that way with a single glance. 

Caught by his violet eyes, Makoto waited for him to continue speaking. 

“I’ll be honest, it was that that made me offer to repay you, and it was your way of looking at things that kept me coming back.” The lopsided smile was back as he looked at her, and he shook his head slowly from side to side, as if amused. “Geez, I sound like an idiot. The point is, you’re an interesting woman, so don’t sell yourself short. If anyone can beat the odds, it’s you.” 

She glanced away, feeling oddly shy underneath his bright gaze, unable to stop the smile that spread across her own lips at his praise. 

“I guess you would know a thing or two about beating the odds,” Makoto conceded, rubbing her thumb idly over the knuckles of the opposite hand. Taking a deep breath, she let out a shaky laugh and chanced a glance at him, feeling nervous as she began to speak, “Hijikata-san… I... What I really want to do is write about you, if you’d allow me to.” 

“Me?” he asked, seeming skeptical, his brows knitting over his eyes. 

The ‘ _ why _ ’ sat between them, unspoken, and Makoto mulled it over as she took another drink of her tea. Across from her, Hijikata glanced away, staring off into the tea shop, his eyes thoughtful and observant as they always were, and for the first time she felt compelled to really  _ look  _ at him. By now, she was familiar with his features and the way he held himself, but she wasn’t really sure she had ever just stopped to drink him in and learn what he looked like in quiet moments. 

There was no way to deny that he was a handsome man.

Even frowning thoughtfully, there was just something about him, caught in the sharp line of his jaw, his straight nose, the pout of his bottom lip, or the darkness of his thick and beautiful black hair against his fair skin. He even dressed well, she noticed, a proper gentleman who wore his kimono in a neat and orderly fashion and kept his hakama clean, though the colors were deep and saturated. Oddly enough, she found that more suitable for him, wondering if he realized that more typical colors might only wash him out, or if he just wore things that he personally enjoyed. 

Still, none of this would have mattered to her as much if he weren’t who he was. 

A peasant and a samurai, a gentleman and an Oni. 

A man wrapped up in contradictions that made inspiration boil hot inside of her chest, mixed with the excitement of facing a challenge and the temptation of solving a puzzle. There was so much to learn about him, so many things that she could say, and looking at him? It was hard to find a man who embodied more of what interested her about the Shinsengumi in the first place. A ragtag group who struck fear and awe into hearts the way Tokugawa Ieyasu must have long ago; warriors who embodied the spirit of a bygone age and who understood what it meant to face death. 

And Hijikata Toshizou, at the heart of it all, the very center of their organization. 

Finally, she had her answer, looking him straight in the face as she spoke, watching as he turned his attention back towards her at the sound of her voice. 

“I think you’re an interesting man,” she said, “and I want to know more about you.” 

Hijikata blinked slowly, his features softening the longer he stared at her before he slowly nodded. “When I get back from Osaka,” he said, “we’ll have to touch base again. Maybe I can tell you what it’s like, what my job actually is… If you want to know.”

Part of her couldn’t help but wonder why he would do something like this for her, but… 

Looking at him, there was also no way she could turn him down. 

After all, he was her muse. 

Her inspiration. 

So if he was willing to take time out of whatever business he had just to come talk to her for awhile, she would gladly take him up on his offer… Perhaps especially if it helped him relax, just like Commander Kondo had suggested. Men like them had to carry a lot on their shoulders, and she couldn’t help but wonder if those swords on their hips were a heavier weight than the quietly gossiping people of Kyoto could ever really imagine. 

“I want to know,” she affirmed, nodding, watching the way he looked at her with a curious expression on his face. “I want to understand just what it is that makes the men in Mibu so different from the other corps that roam the capital.”

“Well,” Hijikata said, reaching for his cup, eyes falling to stare into his tea, “stick around me long enough and you just might find out.” 

Makoto hoped she would. 


	2. There'll Be a Next Time

Okita was being followed by someone that Makoto had never seen before, a young shift of a girl dressed in men’s clothes, with large and uncertain eyes that scanned the room desperately, as if in search of something. She was quite pretty, petite with soft features that suited the shy smile she gave as she sat down next to Okita. 

Makoto joined them both a moment later, noticing the way the girl blinked up at her in surprise, like she hadn’t really been expecting anyone else to show up. It made Makoto wonder if Okita had dragged her here without explaining anything… Which honestly seemed like something he would do. He would probably even find her confusion enjoyable. 

“Hey, Hamamura-san,” he said with a wave and a wide smile. “I thought I would introduce you to Hijikata-san’s page. This is Yukimura-kun,” Okita explained as he patted the girl on the back, hard enough to make her flinch. “Say hello to Hamamura-san, Yukimura-kun.” 

“Uh-um,” the young woman began, her voice far too high to belong to any man, even a young one. “I’m Yukimura,” she said with a bow of her head. “Okita-san told me you’re friends with Hijikata-san, so it’s very nice to meet you!” 

“Yukimura...kun?” Makoto asked, looking up into Okita’s face, earning herself a long peal of laughter as he leaned forward, green eyes sparkling conspiratorially. 

“You’re not supposed to know she’s a girl, Hamamura-san,” he whispered. “It’s a secret.”

Pressing her lips together, Makoto narrowed her eyes and tried to stop herself from laughing, locking eyes with Okita as he pulled away. The two of them exchanged a long glance, the poor girl looking between the two of them with a confused expression on her face before Okita reached out and patted the top of her head as if she were a small child. 

“Well, Yukimura-kun,” Makoto said with a smile, “it’s an extreme pleasure to meet you.” 

“T-Thank you, Hamamura-san,” the young woman paused, smiling shyly, and Makoto wondered if she were perhaps unused to dealing with people. “Um… So you’re friends with Hijikata-san?”

Yukimura asked her question in a tone that implied that Hijikata having friends was impossible, and it made Makoto wonder exactly how much she really saw of him in spite of supposedly being his page. Not that she had really seen much of him recently, either, with the way things were going and the number of problems that the roshi were causing around the city, but… She’d seen him interact with Kondo and Okita… With Saito… 

These men mattered more to him than his own life. 

“Well, we meet as often as we can to talk,” she said with a small smile, hoping that she was being reassuring, “so I certainly hope I can call him a friend.”

Makoto desperately wanted to ask Okita why the Shinsengumi had taken in a young woman… And why they were trying to have her (poorly) pass as a man, but she knew Okita was the last person to give her a straight answer. If anything, he would just take delight in her attempts at guessing, so she decided it was best to keep her questions to herself for the time being.  

“Yukimura-kun hasn’t been with us too long, but he already feels like part of the gang,” Okita said, his eyes narrowing as he looked towards the door, the only discernible sign that he had seen something unexpected in any way. 

Makoto let her gaze follow his for the briefest of moments, watching as a tall man with reddish hair ducked into the building, his eyes scanning the crowd before they landed on Okita and he sauntered over. She couldn’t help but notice how confident his stride was, and took special note of the single shortsword hanging at his hip, his bright yellow eyes falling on her. 

As he caught her gaze, she was assailed by the familiar feeling that she was being sized up, her worth estimated. Some of that was softened by his friendly smile and the easy way in which he greeted both Okita and Yukimura, leaving her feeling less bared or small, but it was clear to her that he was a warrior. 

“Hey, Souji,” the man said, “Hijikata-san’s back at base, bitching you out for taking Yukimura… um… kun out. I’d guess you’d better get your ass back or you’ll be in trouble later.” His eyes flickered towards her again and he smiled. “I can entertain the lady for you, if you want.” 

Across from her, Okita sighed dramatically, as if the very thought was a burden… Though Makoto knew that he’d caused the situation himself. He glanced to her, then shrugged and smiled, reaching out behind him to grab Yukimura’s wrist as he pulled her to her feet. 

“Okay, Sano,” he said lazily, almost slurring the last part of his companion’s name, “I’ll leave Hamamura-san in your expert hands.” 

He turned towards her and winked before her dragged a confused and overwhelmed looking Yukimura away, her protests turned into small, befuddled noises. She watched them go, blinking slowly as she turned to face the other man, who was now sitting across from her and smiling, his expression so engaged and interested that she immediately felt bashful. 

“So,” the man began, “Hamamura, huh? Hijikata’s Hamamura, right?” 

She fluttered her eyelids in surprise and then gave an awkward laugh, “does everyone know about me?”

He only smiled, brushing a strand of his long hair back over his shoulder as he inclined his head in interest. “Only because Souji keeps telling everyone about you. You don’t have to worry, though -- he’d do that no matter who you were. He just wants to make Hijikata squirm.” The smile turned a bit nostalgic as he inclined his head in a proper greeting. “I’m Harada Sanosuke. It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

Makoto could almost picture Hijikata’s face whenever she was brought up, disgruntled, maybe even put-out, as he grumbled about how he had more important things to worry about. He’d done the same thing to her every time she’d tried to bring up his poetry with him, and she was beginning to realize it was just one of the strange and endearing aspects of his personality. It certainly made conversations with him interesting. 

“Harada-san,” she said, “the … The spear guy, right?” 

He laughed at that, the smile coming easily to his lips as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, you could call me that. It’s not like I’m the only one capable of using a spear, but it’s my speciality.” Harada paused and looked at her for a moment longer, and she had the distinct impression that he thought he knew something she didn’t. “So, you spend an awful lot of time with Hijikata-san.”

“It’s not really that odd to spend time with your friends,” she said, glad when her tea arrived. “I spend time with Okita, as well.” 

Harada stared at her and she glanced away, feeling self-conscious beneath his gaze, though she heard him thank the woman who was serving them. It was quiet for awhile after that, leaving her to listen to the quiet sounds of him drinking, clothing rustling every time he shifted. 

Eventually, he spoke in a soft voice. “You know, Hamamura-san, a lot of women want to spend time with Hijikata-san.” 

“I’m not really surprised,” she said, looking up into his face. “Hijikata-san’s a handsome man, and Kyoto women are known for being particularly insistent when it comes to getting what they want.”

“I happen to know Hijikata-san doesn’t like Kyoto women,” Harada said with a broad grin.

Makoto stared at him, frozen, as she realized what he was implying and the words slowly sank to the bottom of her stomach. They sat there for a moment, as if they were digesting, before she had to force herself to swallow his statement. 

Her entire face began to burn, and she reached up to touch it, not quite believing that she was blushing so hard at the implication that he… She swallowed and quickly grabbed her tea, draining half of it in a single gulp even though it was hot enough to scald and did nothing to help the state of her face. 

“There’s no way,” she said as she set it back down, the noise of clay against wood sounding deafeningly loud to her in that moment. “Men like Hijikata-san… They’re men of tastes. Everything about him is so put together, from the way he holds himself to how he dresses.”

Harada gave her a long, withering, look, then pressed his lips together. “Not every man is searching for a looker,” he said. “Sometimes, there are things more important than appearance, like a woman’s personality or the way she makes him feel. It’s not all about being appealing physically, and sometimes what a woman lacks in some areas, she makes up for in others.” 

Impossibly, she felt her face grow even more hot, the fire spreading to her ears. 

She couldn’t believe that he was suggesting that she was… That there was anything more than just some kind of strange admiration and an intellectual connection. She had respect for Hijikata, a man who came so far, who fought the way people saw him just to do something that brought him a sense of meaning. 

And certainly, she wanted to know him better, and there was no denying he was… Gorgeous, but…

That didn’t mean she was interested in him. 

… Did it? 

“Hijikata-san is always looking for meaningful relationships,” Harada explained. “He needs people who understand him and respect him, in spite of the fact that he’s a farmer’s son. A beautiful woman who just wants him for any potential position he might have wouldn’t be interesting to him, and while one or two of us might go for her for a fun night, we wouldn’t really want anything long term with her, either.” 

She watched as he reached down, tracing the rim of his cup with a single long finger, his expression thoughtful. His warm, yellow eyes seemed distant, and she found herself wondering what he was thinking about, even through the haze of her own mortified embarrassment. 

“So don’t fret over not being pretty enough for him. I don’t think he even cares about shit like that,” Harada concluded with something like a half-shrug and a small and gentle smile. 

She found that hard to believe, but at the same time… 

As much as she didn’t believe it, she also wanted it to be true. 

The thought left her breathless, her chest tight with the realization that Harada had somehow managed to read her better than she could read herself. She was attracted to Hijikata, not just because he was interesting or because he was pretty, but because he paid attention to her and seemed to genuinely care about and engage with her on a level she hadn’t experienced before. 

Everything before she had come here felt scripted, like the interactions weren’t genuine, and then men expected to be able to go out and have relations with whoever they wanted after being forced into an advantageous marriage. Makoto understood that desire, really; she would have wanted the same thing if she had actually stayed behind in Edo and done her duty like she should have. 

But it didn’t feel that way with Hijikata. 

It felt… Real. 

Whatever ‘it’ was. 

“I don’t think he’s the sort of man to look for a relationship,” she said at last, “so no matter what I feel, I don’t think it matters, but…” Makoto took a breath, glancing away from Harada to stare at the wall. “Thank you, for pointing it out to me. I just wonder… How did you know?” 

“Women who like men have a look to them,” Harada said simply. “I’ve seen you a few times, from a distance, watched you talk with him. It wasn’t hard to guess.” 

_ Not when you’re experienced.  _

The words hung between them. 

Makoto knew she was unspeakably plain, the sort of woman that a man married out of obligation or when he was ready to settle down because he thought she would be loyal to him and hardworking. She was the sort of person another man wouldn’t covet, so she wasn’t the kind likely to commit adultery, a good wife, a steady, stable presence. 

Her hair was black, her eyes were brown, her features were soft but plain, and she was a bit heavier than the ideal slender figure that geishas and courtesans always cut. It certainly didn’t help that she wore very little in the way of cosmetics and dressed plainly, in part due to a small budget. 

It had never mattered to her much in the past, either because she knew she’d end up marrying someone she didn’t love or because she’d realized she would never marry, but… 

Funny, how it suddenly made her self-conscious, especially when she realized what people must be thinking when they saw a man like Hijikata paying any sort of attention to her at all. Sometimes she remembered that, as much as she understood people, she really didn’t understand them at all, almost like she could write about them because she lived on the outside of normal society. 

“Come on, Hamamura-san,” Harada suddenly said, his voice kind, “don’t look so down. Let me buy you something to eat and then we can talk about something else.”

Makoto blinked and looked into his face, seeing genuine regret in his eyes, though it was tempered with a deep sympathy that she could feel well inside of her chest. Smiling, she felt some of her anxieties fade away and nodded in response. 

“Tell me about Shieikan?” she asked, grateful when he smiled and nodded. 

As painful as some things were to realize, in the end all they really changed was your perception of yourself and, as always, life moved on. 

 

\---

 

It was quiet that day. 

Nothing had really been happening for a while, which worried her. 

If the Shinsengumi felt strangely absent, she figured that the streets were safer… But in a way that made her feel as though something major could happen at any given moment. To her, it was a stark reminder of the few days after the Blackships from America had arrived, when no one was really sure what they would do after forcing their way into Edo, and then… 

Then everything changed. 

Unfortunately, it meant all she could really do was wait. 

Wait for that thing to happen and toss everything into chaos, and then deal with the aftershocks as best as she could. It was all any normal person could do, really. People would be forced to rely on the Bakufu to respond, and whether they would or not she had no idea anymore. 

Part of her believed they really had lost their touch, even if she didn’t want to. 

So of course, it was on that day that a man in Shinsengumi blues stormed into the place and began to attempt to bully the owner into admitting something he likely had no part in. Makoto watched, stunned, as he used his height and regal bearing to attempt to intimidate the poor shop owner… Who had already seen too much death here.  

She could see the terror in the man’s face, her blood turning to ice as she stood and began to stride toward the gentleman, fully intending to use her status as a civilian and a woman to talk some sense into him. Even if he brought her in for questioning, she couldn’t really see Hijikata simply dismissing whatever she said outright just to save face, not when he was known for ordering men to die for less. 

That wasn’t the kind of man he was. 

Setting her jaw, she swiftly stepped up beside him and looked up into his face, noting that he paid her no mind. His eyes didn’t even flicker towards her, his long sweep of deep purple hair shifting and swaying as he leaned forward across the counter to threaten the proprietor with outright arrest, looking every bit like this roshi from not so long ago. 

Stomach churning, she reached out and tugged on his sleeve, watching him spin and snarl as he looked down at her with utter contempt in his seething pink eyes. 

“What is it?” he demanded. “Can’t you see I’m here on official business, woman?”

“This behavior is unacceptable,” she said, barely keeping the tremor from her voice, feeling the eyes of the other patrons on her back as they stared at her. “You’re not acting appropriately.” 

Their judgement was very real, and she knew that even the proprietor thought she was insane this time, with the way he was staring at her with wide, brown eyes. It wasn’t acceptable for her to do this kind of thing when she wasn’t a samurai, but how… How could she allow him to get away with acting like this? How, when she knew that it was hurting others and… 

And violating the vision that Hijikata had for the Shinsengumi? 

“What would you know of appropriate?” the man sneered coldly, his hand falling on her shoulder, fingers digging in to her even through her kimono, hard enough to bruise. “You’re a civilian, and a woman at that, barely worth mentioning. This is Shinsengumi business, and you have no right to --”

Quite suddenly, she found herself being pulled back, another man stepping in front of her. Just from the sheen of his deep green-blue kimono, she could tell he was of high bearing, but… He stood with such grace and poise, his hand resting on the hilt of one of his blades, that there was no way he was anything other than a samurai by birth. 

And not simply a rural samurai, but one of lineage and distinction. 

“The lady is correct,” he said in a calm, clear voice, one that was shockingly young sounding. “If you lack the proof to show that this man is collaborating with Imperial Nationalists, you should leave this establishment immediately.” 

She could no longer see the first man’s face, her entire line of sight dominated by the broad shoulders of the stranger, his dark brown hair cascading from his top knot like the tail of a horse. Makoto could hear the Shinsengumi man’s footsteps, however, the subtle creak of weight and the shuffle of sandals against wood as the man moved forward, attempting to use his height to intimidate the samurai in front of her. 

But to little avail, it seemed. 

“And who are you, to stick your nose into my business?” 

“No one of note,” the samurai replied, Makoto watching as his right hand fell to the blade at his hips, seemingly responding to some cue the other man had given him. “Though perhaps we should take this outside, if you intend to prove your determination to me. I’d rather not risk shedding blood in front of these people.” 

His words were still calm, but Makoto could hear the edge of conviction in them, the promise that his threat was not idle. As relaxed as his tone was, even though the sound of his voice was gentle, this man was every bit a warrior, one willing to fight to get his point across. 

Just as she had been. 

Unbidden, a comment Hijikata had once made about her having joined an organization like the Shinsengumi if she’d been born a man came to mind.

For the first time, she wondered if maybe he had seen something in herself that she hadn’t. 

After all, Hijikata wasn’t the kind of man to offer idle flattery. 

“Very well,” the first man said, turning and stomping away, the samurai not looking back as he walked silently after him, as light on his feet as a cat. 

Before anyone could stop her or tell her otherwise, Makoto walked after them, blinking as she stepped from the dim tea shop back out into daylight. On the street, people had already stopped to stare at the exchange, watching the man in Shinsengumi blues as he faced down the quiet samurai. Quickly, she crossed the street so that she could see the confrontation unfold from a better angle, surprised when the challenging samurai looked even younger than he sounded. 

She wondered if he were even younger than Okita, perhaps. 

He watched the man across from him with calm and clear pale green eyes, his expression level and utterly unreadable, save for what burned in the eyes themselves. She had seen it many times before, the intense sharpness of a man sizing up the person across from him, weighing his soul and judging him worthy… Or unworthy. 

And when the member of the Shinsengumi reached for his sword, it seemed the samurai had made his decision because he stepped forward and grabbed his opponent’s wrist, forcing him to stop. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” the man with the purple hair demanded with a snarl. 

The samurai only smiled back at him as he spoke. 

“You should ask yourself if you truly think this necessary,” he said. “There are witnesses here. Do you really think you can afford to be so reckless?” 

The man in the Shinsengumi haori looked stricken, his body going slack before he wrenched himself away, the implication of the samurai’s words crashing against his mind like waves against the cliffside. His eyes narrowed into little more than slits, spitting out his next words as if they were a bitter medicine on his tongue. 

“I never forget a face, and I promise you that you will pay.”

And without saying anything else, he spun on his heel and walked away, the few other men in blue loitering in the area jogging after him. 

Makoto watched the young samurai drop his hand back to his side and release a breath before he turned his head, his eyes falling on her. Immediately the smile returned to his face and he walked forward, bowing to her before speaking, his expression soft and full of what she was somehow certain was genuine worry. 

“Are you feeling well, miss?” he asked, reminding Makoto that he had seen the Shinsengumi warrior grab her shoulder. “I hope that man didn’t injure you.” 

“No, I’m quite alright,” she said hastily, bowing back. “Thank you so much for your assistance. The owner of this shop is a good man and has been through far too much to have his name besmirched that way.” 

After all, he even tolerated her presence. 

He beamed, his eyes closing in a truly radiant smile, before he motioned back towards the tea house and spoke. “Our drinks must be getting cold,” he said cheerfully. “Maybe we should go back and finish them now?” 

Nodding, she followed him inside, greeted by the owner herding them both towards a specific table where hot tea and a variety of snacks was waiting for them. Makoto watched the brief exchange between the man and the owner, marveling at the humility of the young man, who acted with the manners of all the young lordly men in Edo but with none of the pomposity. When he was confused about receiving free sweets it was a genuine confusion, and he made no play of his humility, acting as though he wasn’t owed anything at all for his actions. 

Makoto’s insides felt warm just looking at him, comforted by the thought that a man like him existed. 

“You were very brave to stand up to him,” he said conversationally as they shared sweets and tea, his excitement at such simple pleasures infectious. “I was impressed by your courage.”

“Without you backing me up, that could have been very bad,” she said, feeling foolish at his kind words. “Honestly, it was really very stupid. I know what the Shinsengumi are capable of and I shouldn’t have underestimated his ruthlessness.” 

He blinked slowly at her and then shook his head, his brown locks bouncing with the movement. “I don’t think that diminishes your effort. Everyone begins powerless,” he reached out to touch two fingers to the hilt of one of his swords. “No one knows this fact better than a warrior, who must train constantly to become worthy of the blade he carries.” 

He paused, his face relaxing a bit as he thought, reaching out for his cup of steaming tea. “Besides, that man is hardly a good example of a warrior. You have far more spirit than he does, and I don’t even know your name, which --” 

He stopped himself and laughed before bowing his head, the radiant smile from earlier returning. 

“I’m Iba Hachiro. It’s a pleasure to meet you, miss.” 

Iba…? 

“Like… The dojo?” she asked rudely, quickly looking away and blinking. “Oh. I apologize. My name is Hamamura Makoto.” 

“Yes, exactly like the dojo, Hamamura-san,” the young man affirmed, not drawing attention to her blunder in the slightest and putting her at ease. “Then you’re from Edo, as well?” 

She was about to respond when a sudden uptake in muttering from the patrons drew her attention back towards the doorway. There, dressed in a blue haori as he was the first time she saw him, stood Hijikata Toshizou, his eyes scanning the shop before they landed on Hamamura and Iba. Those eyes went wide in surprise and he froze for a moment before striding forward, walking with the same predatory grace he always moved with, focused and assertive. 

“Hachiro?” he asked, blinking slowly, Makoto turning towards her new companion to find him staring up at Hijikata with wide eyes. “What the hell are you doing in Kyoto? And why are you with Hamamura?” 

“To-san?” Iba blinked up at Hijikata and then smiled widely, moving over. “I… I know you’re probably on duty, but you should join us for a moment!” 

Hijikata sighed heavily and then nodded once, sitting down next to Iba, his eyes quickly glancing between the two of them. He looked to be thinking, an expression she recognized well now , relaxing ever so slightly where he sat as he finally seemed to come to a decision… Though she couldn't’ begin to guess what he’d been thinking about. 

“So you’re really the Hijikata associated with the Shinsengumi?” Iba asked, his voice dripping with excitement. “That’s incredible, To-san! You did it! You became a samurai!” 

Makoto watched Hijikata snort, but his expression was oddly fond as he looked at Iba, the sort of look a man gave his friends. She’d seen it before, when he looked at Kondo, Okita, or any of the others she’d seen him interacting with from the Shieikan days, so that means that this man was important to Hijikata. 

“Not that they treat us better than the common roshi,” Hijikata said, though she thought maybe the bitterness in his voice wasn’t genuine. “Seriously, Hachiro, what are you doing here with Hamamura, of all people?” 

“Hamamura-san and I met due to an unfortunate altercation with a member of your organization,” Iba said, dropping his voice. “It was handled without any bloodshed, so there’s no cause for alarm, of course. She’s a very brave woman, To-san, just your type!” 

She felt her own face start to burn and looked away, though she could imagine the expression on Hijikata’s face from the sound of Iba’s laughter mounting. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his shoulders shaking as he reached up to demurely cover his mouth with one hand, the intensity of Hijikata’s stare burning so brightly she could feel it from across the table. 

“Shut your mouth, Hachiro,” he grumbled. “So, why are you here?”

“Official business, I’m afraid,” Iba replied with a smile. “I’m a hatamoto, so I’m not at liberty to discuss my duties, but… Well, when I heard rumors of a Hijikata and Kondo striking fear into the hearts of the Imperial Nationalists, I had to see for myself if it was truly you.” 

“Kyoto’s not a vacation spot,” Hijikata asserted, but when Makoto looked into his face she found that his expression was warm. “You keep out of trouble… And stop by the base in Mibu later, if you can.” 

“Will the others be there?” Iba asked curiously. 

The two talked for some time and Makoto watched, Iba finally excusing himself with a small bow to both of them and polite words as he departed. For a moment, Hijikata simply stood at the end of the table, then he turned his eyes to her, his arms crossed over his chest. 

“So,” he began, trailing off before heaving a sigh. “It’s been awhile, Hamamura.” 

“You’ve been busy,” she said, looking up at him with a half smile. “It’s not like I can just show up in Mibu to see you.”

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, held up his hand, and then walked out the door. She watched, feeling strangely anxious, until he came back in a moment later, no longer in his blues, sitting down across from her again. 

“Great thing about being the boss?” he asked, waving over someone to help them. “I don’t have to wait for anyone to debrief me.” 

She smiled at that, watching as he settled in to his seat. “I guess being the Vice Commander has its perks?” she asked him. 

“Not many,” he said, “but you don’t do the job I do for the perks anyway.” 

And just like that, the two of them fell into easy conversation.

 

\---

 

“Shit.” 

Makoto watched as Hijikata blinked, suddenly realizing that the day was winding down and that the little tea shop was about to close. She’d not got any work on her writing done today, but honestly she didn’t really mind when it let them catch up like this… 

Unfortunately, they lost track of time, and now here they both were. 

They’d shared at least three pots of tea between them and an entire tray of pickled vegetables of varying types, Hijikata paying without hesitation. Hours went by and they talked about… Everything. About Okita and Harada and how Hijikata had met Iba Hachiro of the Iba Dojo in the first place… And she’d told him about all the times she’d gotten in trouble as a girl for doing things girls never should do, about how she realized she loved writing, and what she planned to write about him. 

On and on, until now, when he was rising to his feet with an annoyed expression on his face. 

“I’m sorry,” she immediately said, only for him to give her a withering look. 

“For what? I’m the moron who lost track of time.” Hijikata shrugged, then offered her his hand to help pull her to her feet. “You live around here, Hamamura?” 

She nodded, dropping her hand to her side as she looked away, towards the door. “Yes. This place is convenient, which is why I eat here so often. Why?”

“Well... It’s still late, and Kyoto’s dangerous. Need me to take you home?” The way he asked made it clear that it was more of a strong suggestion than anything actually resembling a question. “I can take care of any of the shit we’re likely to come across.” 

“I know you can,” she replied quickly, remembering the way he’d cut down the roshi who’d attacked this establishment the first time they’d talked. “You’re a good swordsman.”

He snorted. 

“I’m passable. You haven’t seen Souji and Saito go at it,” Hijikata looked into her face for a moment, half smiling. “Maybe… Someday you’ll get the chance to see them spar. They make me look like I’m a kid swinging a stick around and playing samurai.”

It was a powerful acknowledgement, and a sign of his respect for the young swordsmen. 

Above all, it brought a smile to her lips, seeing him like this. 

She wondered how many people had seen him like this, and decided that Commander Kondo almost certainly had. After all, the two of them had the kind of friendship that she envied, the kind she had always wanted, but… 

Could never really find. 

“Well, you can still protect me,” she said firmly, smiling at him, “so I accept your offer.”  

They exchanged another look, simply staring at one another for a moment, before he waved for her to follow him and they exited the building together. The chill of the evening breeze on her face was bracing, the sun setting in the West and turning the streets of Kyoto a soft orange color. So far from death and its shadow, Kyoto felt peaceful this time of day, and even if it was an illusion, Makoto found herself relaxing in Hijikata’s presence. 

Being around him put her at ease, when she wasn’t thinking about what Harada had pointed out to her. 

And… Well…

“It was nice,” she said quietly, drawing the attention of his deep violet eyes, “spending time with you again. I hadn’t realized how much I missed talking to you, and then… I didn’t see you for over a month.” 

“Things have been busy,” he said in way of explanation, slowing down so that they were walking side by side, so close that the sleeve of his kimono brushed the back of her hand. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you this, but things are changing and I need to be vigilant.”

There was a lull in conversation as she lead him towards the small shop where she worked and lived with the elderly couple that owned the place. The street was quiet, noiseless, the sounds of them walking the only immediate noise, though sounds from the more busy districts echoed down alleyways and streets towards them. Shimabara was probably filling up right about now, torches bright and winking, women in kimonos more gorgeous than any she would ever know flitting about like flower petals on the wind. 

“You do a lot for Kyoto,” she said at last, “and it never thanks you.” 

“Good thing I’m not doing this to be thanked,” he said, glancing towards her from the corner of his eye, “just like you don’t do what you do for any kind of accolades.” 

He suddenly stopped and she followed suit, looking back at him over her shoulder to watch him, bathed in twilight, his black hair stirred by the cool evening wind. Hijikata stared at her, his eyes burning bright, a curious expression on his face, one caught somewhere between surprise and realization, his mouth open. His tongue quickly darted out to lick his chapped lips, and he looked off into the distance, the fabric of his hakama shifting as he moved. 

“You get it,” he said, “what it’s like to want something so badly you’d give up anything to achieve that dream.” 

“Yeah,” she said, breathless at the sight of him, too beautiful to be fully human. “I get that. I… Gave up a lot to get here, and I still don’t know if it was worth it.”

Makoto walked back to his side, standing by him and staring up into the clouds, tinted purple and pink and bright red, drifting slowly across the orange heavens. Side by side they stood, just watching those clouds, all else forgotten except for the feeling of the moment which was… Heavy, somehow, significant. It was drenched in the kind of quiet longing that you would look back on years later with a sad sense of nostalgia and remember as being a moment that changed you. 

“You’ll get there,” Hijikata said to her. “One day you wake up and you realize you’ve climbed a hell of a lot farther up that hill that you thought you had, and that you can’t stop now. So don’t give it up, Hamamura. You’re too good for that.” 

She blinked, turning her head to look into his face, watching him as he stared upwards. 

Slowly he turned his head to meet her eyes, his body shifting with him, just enough that his fingers brushed the back of her knuckles, calloused but warm to the touch. The feeling sent a spark up her arm, his words suddenly ringing around in her head as nothing ever had before, making her feel both small and ugly and excited at once. 

How was it that… Her entire world had just narrowed down to a single point of contact?

Makoto had never felt this way about a man before, not even when she was supposed to. 

“Thank you,” she said, her voice wavering even though she didn’t want it to, wished she could be stronger. “You’re the first person who’s ever believed in me like this, Hijikata-san. You… Make me feel like I have a chance at being more than I was born to be.” 

He looked surprised for a single moment, but his expression quickly softened in a way she had never seen before through all their conversations. Not even when he’d been with Commander Kondo had his face looked like this, the smile on his face one that seemed to be something private, something only for her. He was so … soft, his eyes filled with a gentleness that made her breath catch in her throat and her heart flutter. 

What had she done to deserve such an expression? 

“Good,” he said, his brow still somehow furrowed, his hand reaching out to fall heavily onto her shoulder. “Sometimes, all you need is a kick in the ass. Hopefully, yours can be a bit gentler than mine was.” 

He stood there for a moment longer, his hand heavy and reassuring, their gazes locked as he stared down into her face with that incomprehensible expression. Then, shaking his head as if it remind himself where he was, he pulled away, leaving her feeling colder than she’d thought possible. 

“We should get you back home, Hamamura,” Hijikata said with a sigh. “As much as I want to stay here and talk all night, I’ve got shit to do, and as it is…”

He trailed off, not completing his thought. 

“Come on,” he said instead, placing his hand in between her shoulder blades and pushing her forward. “I’m sure you’re at least a bit tired.”

She wanted to tell him that there was no way she could be tired with him around, but the words wouldn’t form. So instead, she just laughed and shrugged, leading him down the street and into an alleyway towards the side door of the little tea shop where she lived. 

The lantern was lit above the door, casting happy dancing light onto the ground, the world around them quickly turning a deep blue. Just beyond the alleyway, Makoto could see the first stars beginning to shine in the sky, though she turned back to Hijikata when he cleared his throat, watching him as he stood with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“We should…” he began, trailing off before heaving a sigh and then starting over. “Next time, maybe we can meet at a place I like.”

“Next time…?” Makoto breathed softly, appreciating the smile half-smile he gave her. 

“Yeah,” Hijikata nodded. “I’ll write you. I can do that, now that I’ve seen where you live. Send you a message and we can meet up when… When I have time.” 

“I’d like that,” she said as she placed her hand against the wood at the side of the door. “Good evening, Hijikata-san.”

The smile didn’t vanish, though he said nothing else, turning away and walking down the small alleway and leaving her heart pounding and aching with excitement. She watched him go, a purple and grey shape that slowly vanished, his long black hair the last thing she saw as he rounded a corner and walked completely out of sight. 

It was all she could do just to catch her breath, so caught up in her own thoughts that she didn’t notice the dark shapes approaching her from behind. They crept through the alleyway, rough men with swords hanging at their sides, ronin whose eyes burned with a fiery conviction that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. 

Spinning, she stumbled back, ready to scream for help knowing full well that Hijikata could not be far, but a hand clamped over her mouth. It smelled like steel and leather, and she struggled hard, trying to bite at the rough palm, but there were too many of them and she was just one woman. 

“Do you think they’ll take the bait or let her die?” one of them asked. 

But before she could get an answer, she felt pain as someone hit her in the back of the head and her world was slowly eclipsed by a yawning black void. 


	3. The Soft Embrace After the Storm

Her head was pounding and her mouth was dry, but she was alive. 

Alive, and restrained, her wrists raw and throbbing from the rope. Around her, she could hear the sounds of muted conversation, and a light was flickering somewhere so that she could see the yellow behind her closed eyes. Makoto swallowed, trying to stop her mouth from feeling like she’d swallowed a sack cloth, but… 

To little avail. 

She began to panic, but tried to fight the feeling down and remain calm. 

If she lost her wits, she’d just make her situation worse. She knew that her life was at risk, that these men may very well kill her if she stepped out of line. Roshi never hesitated, they were warriors and warriors were always as prepared to kill as they were to die. 

Taking several deep breaths, she resolved to sit up and try to get a feeling for her surroundings. 

Slowly, she rolled over onto her stomach, using her shoulders and thighs to push herself up into a proper sitting position. With another breath she opened her eyes, looking around to see herself sitting in what looked to be a room in an inn, the shoji painted with graceful patterns of flowers and birds. 

That wasn’t very helpful, though. 

There were countless inss all over the countryside and in the city itself, so she could be anywhere, but… 

It wasn’t likely that they had taken her too far, so she was most likely in or around Kyoto, somewhere where she could be reached. 

Especially if the man’s words rang true, suddenly coming to the forefront of her mind and echoing around in her head and leaving her feeling cold, even in the humid room. 

_ Do you think they’ll take the bait or let her die?  _

Was this… 

Was this about the Shinsengumi? 

Were they targeting her because of her connection to Hijikata? 

Pushing the thought from her head because it wouldn’t help her to dwell right now, her train of thought was quickly scattered as the door opened as a pair of men stepped into the room. She didn’t recognize them, but she hadn’t gotten a very good look at her attackers in the dim alley, either. 

What was certain was that they were roshi, the swords hanging at their sides a telltale giveaway, and then, when they spoke… 

“Our guest’s finally awake. Good. It’ll be better if they come and can see her face.”

Tosa?

They… Spoke in the Tosa dialect? 

“Sorry for the manhandling,” another said as he sat down by her side, reaching out to unbind her, ignoring the sudden protests of the other man. “You should know we don’t mean to kill you, no matter what, so just sit tight for us, okay?” 

“I don’t…” she started, her voice rough enough that she had to clear her throat. “I don’t believe you. You’ll kill me if you have to.” 

The man looked started, his eyes widening ever so slightly, but his companion’s sigh was enough to tell her that she was right. Still, she was grateful that she wasn’t bound any longer, and reached out to rub her sore wrists looking around the room for something,  _ anything _ , she could use to try and escape on her own. 

There was no way she could fight them off, but at the same time, if they weren’t expecting it she… She might be able to get away before they really realized what had happened. 

“I don’t make a habit of killing anyone, let alone women,” the man who untied her protested, reaching up to run a hand through his loosely wavy hair, his gaze suddenly piercing somehow. “You’re a serious and grim kind of lady, aren’t ya?” 

She stared up into his face, his expression warm and damnably earnest, though she had no reason to trust him. He… Didn’t look like a warrior, there wasn’t that special quality to his stare, after all. It reminded her more of a merchant or a politician, but… His friend was looking at her in that certain way, and even if the man who untied her wouldn't kill her, she could be damn certain his companion would. 

“Do you want me to be happy to see you?” she asked him, narrowing her eyes. “Your cronies hit me over the head and dragged me off to who knows where. Untying me won’t make up for that.”

“What about bringing you food and a little bit of sake?” asked the friendly-seeming man with another wide smile. 

Deciding that joking would make her feel better, if nothing else, she offered him a weary half smile as she looked up into his odd orange eyes. “It might help smooth things over,” he said, “but I’m not making any promises to a group of rebels.” 

The other man shifted his weight, loudly, glaring down at her with a cold expression, but the warm man only laughed at her and then turned around, quickly placing a tray before her on the tatami mats. 

“Well,” he said conversationally, pouring a bit of sake into one of the cups and then draining it himself before pouring some for her. “I figure if you’re going to be a victim of kidnapping, you’ve gotta be cheerful about it, right?” 

She looked down to the food and carefully started to eat the rice balls on the platter, carefully sipping at the sake. Makoto didn’t drink much, and she wished she had tea instead if just to help with the dryness in her throat, but at least the burning was helping to numb the pounding in the back of her head. And the food… The food was good, and it was giving her strength back that she hadn’t even fully processed that she’d lost until just that moment. 

Finally, she finished, glancing back up into the man’s orange eyes. 

“Why me?” she asked, wanting to be sure. 

The warm man shrugged, leaning back and supporting his weight on one hand, staring up at the ceiling beams. “Couldn’t tell you. Not for sure, anyway.” His grin turned more quiet and thoughtful, “I take the orders, not give them, so if you want to know you’ll have to ask someone else.” 

She thought it might be a lie, but at the same time… He was being kind to her. 

It wasn’t something he needed to do, so she didn’t press again, silently turning her attention back to her food and continuing to eat. They really didn’t appear to want her to die, but a desire to not kill her still didn’t mean they wouldn’t if they were pressed to do so. 

This was a hostage situation.

And she was the hostage. 

“So, since we’re both here,” the man began after she had lapsed into silence for a time, “what’s a girl like you doing living in this big city all alone?” 

“I live with an elderly couple and help them run their tea shop,” she said simply, “which you should know, if you guys kidnapped me.” 

“I wasn’t personally involved in that,” he said with a shrug, as if that should explain everything, as if he hadn’t been told … Which she doubted. “So you’re just a normal woman on the surface, and yet somehow you’re in the middle of all this revolution nonsense. You must be an interesting person deep down.” 

She stared at him for a moment, not really sure how to respond, when the sound of the shoji opening drew her attention and two more men stepped into the room. They motioned to him and his companion, and he stepped forward, having a quiet conversation with them that she couldn’t hear.

With one last sun-bright smile over his shoulder, the man passed from the room and left her alone with two new strangers… Who seemed completely content to ignore her. That was fine, of course, she didn’t really need conversation and… Well. In some ways, them treating her coldly was a comfort because it was how she expected kidnappers to act, not like they were trying to befriend her. 

Drawing her legs up to her chest, she stared at the men in front of her, who had taken the sake she’d been left and were sharing it between the two of them. They became more and more relaxed, talking amongst themselves, and she watched them, a lone woman in a kimono who was surely no threat to to samurai. Least of all ones with swords sitting at their sides, ready to strike her down at any moment.  

Slowly, she slipped her sandals off her feet, their eyes straying to her momentarily, though they seemed to pay her no mind. 

The feeling that something was about to happen was overwhelming, her entire body tuned into something she didn’t quite understand. Sooner or later, they would either come for her… Or they wouldn’t, and something else would happen to her, perhaps even her death as a warning, and the waiting was slowly driving her mad. 

Each moment seemed to drag on forever, the sound of their lips smacking against their cups growing more and more insufferable with every passing second until… 

Finally,  _ finally _ she heard muffled shouting from the floor below them. 

Immediately, the men started to rise to their feet, but they were tipsy and Makoto had been prepared. With a grunt, she launched herself across the mats and grabbed one of the short swords, drawing it and finding it to be much lighter than she had expected, turning her body to face her guards while holding it with both hands. 

This… This would make it much more difficult for them to kill her. 

At least, she hoped so. 

“What the hell?” the man whose sword she’d stolen demanded, drawing his blade on her and slowly starting to advance. “Pretty ballsy, for a prisoner. Leave it to the Tosa to screw up something as simple as leaving the hostage tied up!”

“Just deal with her!” the other man shouted as he threw open the shoji and stepped into the hall, one of his swords already drawn. “We’ve got company, and it’s probably the damn blue coats!” 

The first man clicked his tongue in frustration as he approached her slowly, like she was a cornered animal that he was about to slaughter, as though she had no blade in her hands at all. Makoto could see the killing intent in his eyes, and the sight terrified her, rooting her in place as she stared at him with trembling hands and widened eyes, every breath she drew in painful. Her muscles locked in place, she couldn’t even move back or hope to defend herself, and she could hardly believe she’d even thought she was capable of it, until… 

A man’s painful last scream drove all hesitation from her mind, a stark reminder that it could be her body bleeding onto the tatami at any moment. 

Crying out as loudly as she could she rushed her attacker, feeling something heavy and searing slice across her left shoulder as he slashed at her as hard as he could. All the same, she kept moving, her teeth clenched so hard that the sound of them grinding together was the only thing she could hear aside from the rush of her own blood in her ears. 

The feeling when her blade sunk into his chest was akin to sticking a knife into raw meat, resistance and the sound of a blade against flesh, Makoto unable to tear her eyes away from the look of pained surprise that shot across his grizzled features. All Makoto could do was watch as he stumbled back, gazing down at the weapon sticking from him as he fell backwards through the open door. Not even the burning in her shoulder could distract her, her hands shaking as they fell limply to her side, eyes side and staring as she watched him collapse onto the ground. 

She was too shocked to feel… Anything, her entire body going numb until… 

Footsteps thundering up the stairs, a flash of white and blue in the darkness, the sounds from downstairs still filling the building with screams and grunts, but then… 

Then he was there, dashing past the dying man and freezing when he saw her, his violet eyes set underneath deeply furrowed brows. All Makoto could do was look at him, feeling hot tears well behind her eyes and then spill over, trembling as she lost strength from her legs and began to collapse underneath the weight of her own body. 

In an instant, his arms were around her, supporting her.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Fuck -- Hamamura, you’re…”

His arm pressed against the gash on her arm and she cried out in pain, one of her hands shooting out to wind into the fabric of his haori. Above her, his brow furrowed even further, rage evident in his expression as he wrapped the arm that supported her more tightly around her shoulder. She watched from within his arms as he snapped his head back towards the door, eyes narrowed as he gazed into the darkness with a fierce expression on his pale and perfect face. 

“Hijikata-san--” she started, cutting herself off.

What could she possibly say to him right now? 

Nothing could make this better.

“It’s not your fault,” he said, turning his head to look back down at her, his voice filled with barely constrained rage. “These bastards just had a bone to pick with us, so they took you to try and draw us out.” He looked down to where his hand was still pressed over her wound, bright red blood seeping from between his fingers and staining her kimono. “And you got hurt.” 

“I--” she tried again, swallowing, the pain in her arm suddenly throbbing up her shoulder and making her entire body tremble. “Th-than--”

“Stop,” he said firmly. “You shouldn’t waste your energy talking.”

He paused, looking down into her face with an unreadable, but oddly gentle, expression on his face. Hijikata’s eyes were soft, even though the line of his lips was hard and he was swallowing hard enough that she could see his neck pulse with the movement. 

“Leave the rest to us,” he finally muttered before turning his attention fully towards the entrance to the room, as if to stand guard over her. 

Makoto stared at him for a moment longer before nodding, burying her face in his chest and trying to fight back the tears. There was no way she could process what had happened just now, no way she could reconcile what she had done with its consequences, so instead she forced herself to focus on what was real --

The steady and persistent pain in her arm.

The sounds of fighting slowly subsiding. 

And the ever-present feeling of Hijikata’s arm around her shoulder. 

 

\---

 

“The… The cut’s not as deep as it could be,” said the tiny Yukimura quietly, gently tending to Makoto’s wound with delicate, yet somehow firm, fingers. “It should heal if you rest, but… Be careful not to move it too much, okay, Hamamura-san?” 

She nodded, staring at the wall straight ahead of her and somehow grateful for the young woman’s exceedingly gentle and kind manner in that moment. She felt if rougher hands handled her, she might easily break into a million pieces and right now she… She didn’t want to suffer the indignity of falling apart in front of so many men she deeply respected. Yukimura was more like her --

She lived in the world of normal mortals, just like Makoto did. 

She wasn’t a samurai. 

“You can call me Makoto,” she said in a rough voice, reaching up with her good arm to pull the haori that was draped around her shoulders more tightly about her. “Thank you, Yukimura-chan. I really… I really appreciate your help.” 

The girl beamed at her, drawing back ever so slightly to stare at her with wide, kind eyes filled with nothing short of warmth. Looking at her, it was easy to see why she’d become so ingrained with these men in such a short period of time, if the way they interacted with her upon Makoto’s arrival here was any indication. Rough warriors probably craved a nurturing presence, and since Yukimura wouldn’t judge them … 

“I’ll go get you some tea, Makoto-san,” Yukimura said as a blush spread across her cheeks and she stood, quickly bowing. “Please try to relax! I promise everyone in the Yagi House is very kind!” 

As she opened the shoji to scurry off, Saito Hajime, the man with the blue eyes, slipped into the room past her and sat across from Makoto. He didn’t say anything, not at first, not until Yukimura quietly shut the door behind her and he reached out, handing her the package he was carrying. 

“The Vice Commander thought that you may like a change of clothing,” he said, eyes focused deliberately on her face. “He apologizes that you were wounded based on your involvement with the Shinsengumi.” 

Makoto took the small bundle of clothing, not particularly surprised to find hakama among them, and smiled a little bit to herself as she placed the fabric on her lap and bowed low in front of him. “Thank you, Saito-san. You’ve been quite gracious, as hosts. I apologize for my imposition.” 

Something about him, she didn’t know what it was, prompted her to be as polite as possible. 

When she straightened, she found him staring at her with an absolutely incomprehensible expression, and realized for the first time how… How young his face was. His skin was pale and smooth, and in spite of his serious manner and the quiet intensity of his eyes, there was still a sort of roundness to his features that marked him as someone younger than herself. 

“It is not an imposition,” he said at last, after what seemed to be an eternity of consideration. “As warriors, it is our duty to take responsibility when such situations occur.” His blue eyes flickered briefly to the wound on her arm, but he seemed far too polite (and perhaps even… shy?) to look anywhere else. “You need only rest and wait for us to ensure that your safety will not be threatened again.” 

She wanted to respond but she wasn’t really sure what else to say, saved only by the door opening again for Yukimura. Saito seemed to take that as the chance to excuse himself, though not before quietly asking Yukimura to help her into the new clothing, taking his leave and shutting the door quietly behind him. 

Quietly, the two of them shuffled into place… And Makoto was suddenly glad that Saito had asked Yukimura to help her, though she suspected that the young woman would have anyway. It was difficult to move her wounded shoulder and arm, both throbbing or stinging every time she moved them too much, so having someone to help maneuver her into the kimono and help tie the hakama was… relieving. 

When they finished, Makoto slowly sat back down, feeling odd wearing men’s clothing, though grateful that she was no longer dressed in a ruined kimono covered in her own dried blood. Looking at the crumpled garment now, she could hardly believe that she had survived, and if she were being honest? The last several hours since they had arrived at the Yagi House in Mibu were little more than a blur, except for the feeling of Hijikata dragging her with him, supported by his arm. 

“Are you okay, Makoto-san?” Yukimura asked her gently as she poured the tea. 

“I’m just tired,” she said, offering Yukimura a half-hearted smile. “It’s been … a long day for me. You never expect something like this to happen, and then… It does. And what are you supposed to do?”

She swallowed thickly, feeling her eyes start to sting as she thought about the feeling of the blade slipping into the man’s chest. Taking a deep breath, she drew her knees to her chest and pressed her forehead against them, finding the smell of the hakama oddly reassuring, a warm, masculine scent. 

It made her want to curl up and cry herself to sleep, and hope she felt better in the morning. 

“I know how you feel,” Yukimura said after a quiet moment. “I… I’m here because the Shinsengumi are kind enough to help me look for my father, but I’m all alone now, too.” Her voice was small, and Makoto found herself feeling bad for the girl even though her own situation was hardly any better. “I’ve seen things I never wanted to see, but … There are people here to help you, just like there were people willing to help me.” 

Makoto smiled, reaching out and gently covering Yukimura’s hand with her own before the girl could pull away. A look passed between them, and Yukimura smiled, the sight helping melt away some of Makoto’s stress; after all, it was good to know that she wasn’t completely alone right now. She had always known that the girl had to be under the custody of the Shinsengumi for a good reason, and if her father was missing… 

Well, he must be an important man, but it was just like Kondo and Hijikata to let her stay, wasn’t it?

“Thanks, Yukimura-chan,” she said, her voice still rough, grateful when Yukimura handed her the cup and she could finally drink. “You’ve done a lot to help me.” 

Yukimura beamed at her, then started to talk about the Shinsengumi and the chores she’d started to do around their base. She talked about Edo and her ability to do first aid because her father was a Western trained doctor, and Makoto could quickly see how she’d grown so independent in spite of being so young. In return, Makoto told her about the work she did, about the people she’d met working at a tea house, and regaled Yukimura with the story of how she’d met Hijikata and been drawn into all of this in the first place. 

And as that conversation drew to a close, the shoji slid open and Hijikata stepped inside, glancing between the two of them before speaking. 

“Good,” he said. “They fit. A bit big on you, but you’re a tall woman, so I figured…” 

He trailed off, then looked towards Yukimura, his brows furrowing. “Go get Hamamura something to eat, something light, like miso soup.” 

“Of course, Hijikata-san!” Yukimura said, leaping to her feet and bowing low before leaving the room. 

Quietly, Hijikata shut the shoji and then sat across from her, staring at her quietly for a moment before heaving out a sigh and reaching out for the third, empty, cup that Makoto hadn’t even noticed until now. She watched as he poured himself what was surely lukewarm tea and then drained it in a single moment, his expression more composed when he looked back at her as he set the cup on the ground beside him. The action seemed to calm him, somehow, and she wished she had a trick that would work for her, in this moment. 

After all, this man had seen her as a mess. 

It made her feel… 

Self-conscious, as if she were inflicting something horrible upon him. 

“Listen,” he began, staring at so intently that she felt compelled to maintain eye contact, “I figured you wouldn’t want to talk about this in front of too many people, but…” She watched him shift and take a breath, his face softening by degrees. “You killed that guy, didn’t you?” 

He didn’t need to clarify.

Makoto knew full well what had happened, could replay every moment of it in her mind clearly, the look of shock and pain on his face. Unable to meet his gaze any longer, she looked to her hands, clasped together in her lap to stop them from shaking, drawing in a breath to try to answer him. 

Instead, he spoke, his voice quiet and oddly gentle. 

“Yeah,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

There was another lapse in conversation, ended when she heard him shift, her eyes snapping up as she watched him slowly move towards her so that they were sitting nearer to one another. Oddly, his presence was comforting, like the smell of the clothing she was wearing, and… And strangely familiar, as she realized she had somehow ended up wearing something of his, though it looked a bit old and worn. Feeling heat come to her cheeks unbidden, already humiliated because he could read her so easily, she quickly looked away again. 

“What happened,” he said, “it wasn’t really your fault. You got dragged into this shit because you’ve been spending time with me, and whether or not we leave you alone now, you’re always gonna be a target.” 

She heard him sigh, and from where she sat she could see his hands clenched into fists on his lap. “Truth is, you never should’ve had to kill that guy, Hamamura, but you’re a strong woman. Even if it hurts now, you’ll get better. First time is always hard, I just hope there’s never a second time for you.” 

“I… felt him die,” she said, her voice hoarse, but she… She had to speak; she couldn’t stay quiet about it anymore, and he’d killed… He would kill again. “I know it was him or me, but I still took his life. He doesn’t exist in this world anymore because I destroyed his physical body.” 

She took a deep breath and looked up at him, smiling wanly. “Now I know why it’s said by some that to wield a sword is wicked, though I still don’t agree.” 

Even though she had killed him, even though his blood was on her hands, at the same time … 

“Without that sword I wouldn’t be alive,” she said, “and the worst part is, I’m happy it was him and not me. It makes me feel like I’ve done something wrong for being relieved to still be alive.”

“You’re not a warrior,” Hijikata said quietly, reaching out to place his hand firmly against her left arm. “No one can expect you to be ready to die at any moment, Hamamura. Give yourself some more credit.” 

“I’m trying,” she said with a half-hearted smile. “I just don’t know what to do now. I don’t…” she looked at him, her brows furrowed as she took comfort from the strength of his hand. “I don’t feel like the same person.” 

“You’re not,” he said, “but there’s nothing wrong with the person you are now.” 

The words struck her and she smiled at him, some of her anxiety fading away to be replaced by fatigue. Looking away quickly, she shifted as he dropped his hand and released a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. 

“Thanks, Hijikata-san,” she muttered, watching as he stood up, nodding at her in response. 

“Get some rest here for tonight,” he replied as he turned back towards the door. “We’ll deal with the rest of this shit in the morning.” 

She nodded and watched him as he quietly left the room, letting herself gratefully soak in the sudden and comforting silence. 

 

\---

 

It was lunch the next day before Makoto saw anyone other than Yukimura, who bustled about the place doing errands with a smile on her face. She was productive, doing so much alone, and it reminded Makoto of all the hard work she’d be doing right now if she hadn’t ended up here, wearing a man’s clothing with a wound on her arm. 

But come lunch, she finally met the entirety of the group that had called the Shieikan their home. 

Of course, there are people she recognizes, quiet Saito and grinning Okita, calm and friendly Harada, and… Kondo and Hijikata, side by side at the head of the room. The others she didn’t recognize, but she could guess who they were by the stories … 

The smallest, youngest looking one was probably Todou Heisuke, while the large one next to Harada was likely Nagakura Shinpachi, and that left an older gentleman and a man with spectacles. She guessed that the older man with the kind face seated near Yukimura was Inoue Genzaburo, from Hijikata’s descriptions of the man, while the man with spectacles was most likely Sanan Keisuke. 

When she entered with tray in hand, everyone went quiet for one moment, and then Okita waved at her and patted the ground beside him with a grin. 

“Eh, look! It’s Hamamura-san!” He said with a wide grin. “Come on, sit down and join in the fun. We were just talking about the raid Nagakura and Hijikata lead on the little Inn you were held in last night.”

“So you’re Hamamura-san, huh?” asked the tall, blue-eyed man she suspected to be Nagakura. “You were pretty out of it when we met last night. Glad you’re up and walking around!”

“I’m… I’m sorry I don’t remember you, Nagakura-san,” she said, bowing her head as she took a seat next to Okita. “Thank you for coming to rescue me. I apologize for --”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Hijikata, cutting her off. “You’re not an inconvenience. It’s our responsibility to help you when we’re the reason you were taken in the first place.”

There was a general muttering of agreement. 

“Yeah, relax!” said the youngest among them. “Besides, they were rebels, so we’d have had to have fought them eventually anyway!” 

“Still,” the man with spectacles added in a serene voice, “I understand why you would be shaken. It must be quite an experience for a young woman to have to endure alone.” 

She felt her face heat up, amazed at the amount of fussing they were doing. 

They were a group of hardened men, men she knew to be capable of killing, and yet here they were… Sitting around, talking, treating her with such warmth that she felt almost nostalgic over it. It reminded her of family gatherings back home, back when she’d still had a family to belong to before she’d lost her right to one by coming all the way out here. 

And though she didn’t precisely regret giving up her family for her dream, there were still things she missed.

A sense of belonging was one of them. 

“It was an ordeal,” she said, lifting her head and taking a breath, “but I have you to thank for my life.”

She caught Hijikata’s eye from across the room, the two of them staring at one another for a moment before she looked away. They both knew that she had been the one to “save” her own life, in a sense, though really Makoto thought that she’d just been lucky to catch the man off-guard. 

But she didn’t say anything.

Not that she thought they would judge her, but neither did she want any pity for being the woman who’d had to kill a man. 

“I’m just relieved you’re safe, Hamamura-san,” Kondo said kindly, though he quickly frowned, “but this begs the question of what to do about potential future attempts.” 

“Well, we could just keep our distance,” the youngest suggested quietly, only to earn him a long suffering sigh from Hijikata, who shifted where he sat, gazing with intensity at a wall, brows furrowed over his bright eyes. 

“That won’t work, Heisuke,” he said. “She’s already been implicated, so backing off now won’t do shit to help her. She’s probably safer if we keep her close.” 

The words made her heart leap into her throat, and she quickly looked back down to her food, reaching out for the bowl of soup to press it to her lips. Instead of worrying about what they were saying, she tried to focus on the taste of the food instead, the subtlety of the salt, but… 

“How close?” Harada asked, Makoto’s lips freezing while still pressed to the rim of the bowl. “It’s not like she’d be as easy to disguise as Chizuru-chan is.”

The implication of his words was very clear and she blushed, putting the bowl down and suddenly missing the uniformity of a well wrapped kimono diminishing her chest. Desperately, she reached for the pickled vegetables to stop herself from saying something stupid. 

“Is Hamamura-san aware of Yukimura-kun’s condition?” the serious but kind older gentleman asked. 

“Eh? How could she not be, Gen-san?” Okita leaned past her to look at Genzaburo over her shoulder. “Chizuru-chan is too cute to be a boy.” 

Across the room, Yukimura was blushing profusely, Harada patting her shoulder consolingly while Heisuke tried to hand her some extra pickled vegetables to make up for Okita’s teasing. Makoto somehow couldn’t bring herself to feel bad for her, because it was clear that the girl had  found a family in these men, even so far away from her actual family. If anything, it made her feel lonely, not resentful of Yukimura, just… 

Sad. 

“I believe our options are rather limited,” the bespectacled man said, still smiling serenely, though there was a slight furrow between his brow as he pressed the rip of his cup to his lips. 

Hijikata appeared to be thinking, his eyes boring into her from where he sast. She watched him, his thumb brushing thoughtfully over his lips before he released a breath and looked towards the bespectacled man, speaking. “Well, we could always put her up somewhere and put guards on the place. She can’t stay where she was before when they know where it was.” 

“Put me… up somewhere?” she asked, blinking as she stared at him, her mouth falling open slightly. 

Hijikata nodded. 

“We’d rent a room for you at an Inn somewhere. That way, if we had to, we’d just move you.” 

Makoto shook her head, “but I have a job, a… a life…”

If she were being honest, she didn’t really have much of either. 

The elderly couple she lived with were very kind, but she wasn’t particularly close to either of them and their tea shop wasn’t that busy in the first place. They could manage it on her own and had more taken her on out of pity than anything else. 

And it’s not as if she had any other connections in Kyoto outside of the Shinsengumi, but… 

Could she really allow herself to burden them this way?

“At least until we know who’s targeting her,” Kondo agreed with a brisk nod of his head. “Hamamura-san, it is our duty as warriors to protect you. We won’t force you to accept our offer, but we don’t wish you to face danger on our behalf.” 

He was an incredibly kind man, of that she was certain. 

It was the sort of simple, earnest kindness of all working men and reminded her of the farmers who would come into town to drink or buy goods. All that rural sense of discretion and goodwill channeled into a samurai was an impressive sight to behold, and it made Makoto feel guilty that her initial instinct was to reject his offer. 

“Think of it as a chance to work on your writing,” Hijikata said, drawing her from her thoughts. 

She took a deep breath and set her jaw, not really sure how to respond or… Honestly, even whether or not they were giving her a real choice in the matter. Worrying her lip between her teeth, she chanced a look at Hijikata, who locked eyes with her the moment she raised her head, his gaze one of a man who knew what he was doing. 

Relaxing, she released a long breath and then nodded. “If you’ll allow me to gather my few worldly possessions… Then I’ll accept your proposal.” 

“We’ll go and get them together,” Harada suggested, “though until them, maybe you can stay with Chizuru-chan in her room?” 

He glanced towards Hijikata, who nodded once. 

“It’ll take some time to get things set up,” Hijikata said, his gaze drifting towards Saito. “I’ll leave the arrangements to you and Yamazaki.” 

“Vice Commander,” Saito said quietly, bowing his head in acknowledgement. 

“Well now that that’s dealt with,” Nagakura said in a loud voice, raising his cup as he looked around the room, “let’s dig in properly!” 

Somehow, his cheerful voice broke the spell that was over her, and Makoto coaxed herself into relaxing. It was safe and these men were safe to be with, and if she were being honest with herself, she… Never wanted something like this to happen again, never wanted to wake up in an unfamiliar place with her life in danger that way, even though her life was in danger every day. 

After awhile, she excused herself to go sit outside of the stuffy common room, looking up at the sky as she stood on the porch, her hair barely disturbed by the breeze. She didn’t bother to look who it was when she heard the shoji open, the quiet presence beside her somehow letting her know before she even looked at him who exactly had joined her. 

“You okay with this decision?” he asked, his voice quiet, as if he didn’t want any of the laughing men inside to hear. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted, finally glancing at him, black hair obscuring part of his face. “I don’t really think I’m in a position to refuse, though. I’m just worried I’ll be lonely, but…” Makoto sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. “If I’m honest, I was lonely anyway.” 

He sighed and took a step closer to her, his hand hesitating before it fell on her shoulder. The touch was simple, just a small pat of reassurance, but the warmth of his large hand somehow emphasized the growing feeling of fear gnawing at the inside of her chest, and she wrapped her arms around herself as if that could hold it in. 

Eyes burning, she bowed her head to stare at the straps of her geta, swallowing thickly. 

“I almost died,” she muttered softly, hating how rough and weak her own voice sounded, “and the worst part of it all is that I realized I have no one to mourn me. I’m all alone in this world and I don’t know what to do about it.” 

He was quiet, so quiet that she was afraid she’d said something wrong, but then… 

Then he was in front of her, both of his hands falling heavily onto her shoulders before he pulled her into his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around her. He was only a little bit taller than her, but as she ducked her head to bury her face in his shoulder, she felt one of his hands reaching up to stroke the back of her head, his touches soft and uncertain… And yet all the more comforting for that reason. 

Her fingers twined in the fabric of his kimono, and she choked back a sob, her entire body trembling with the effort, though he didn’t judge her for trying to hold back the deluge of her tears. 

If anything, he almost seemed to understand, saying nothing as he just stood there with her in his arms. Strong, warm, the scent of him the same comforting masculine scent of his clothing, and for the first time in a very long time, Makoto felt completely secure. 

After all, when was the last time she’d let someone take care of her? 

“We’ll come visit you,” he muttered, so close that she could feel where his deep voice bloomed from, “so stop worrying so damn much, okay?”

She laughed a little at that, at the way he phrased it, because it was just like him… 

Just like him to be rough around the edges but so gentle that it hurt.

And that was just one of the very many things Makoto had started to admire about him. 

“Okay,” she replied, nodding against his shoulder. “Thank you, Hijikata-san… For everything.” 

He sighed again and said nothing else, but he didn’t release her for awhile afterwards. 


	4. A Blood Soaked Ribbon

It was neither a particularly expensive inn, or a very cheap one. 

The best word she could use to describe it was “respectable”, and her room was a small one in the first floor with a nice view of the inner courtyard gardens. It was inspiring, and honestly, if she thought about this entire ordeal as a retreat … It did make her feel a bit better. 

“Geez, you really don’t own very many things, do you, Hamamura-san?” Harada asked, carrying in the various baskets she’d packed her possessions in under escort from a man named Yamazaki, unassuming and plain looking, but with careful eyes. 

“Are you trying to insinuate that I’m not ladylike?” she asked, casting a glance over her shoulder, a small smile gracing her lips. 

“I think he’s just trying to tell you that you’re poor, Makoto,” Heisuke said, earning himself a smack to the back on the behalf of Harada himself. “Ow! Do you have to hit so hard, Sano?!”

Makoto was used to this kind of thing after having lived at the Shinsengumi base for a few days, and she didn’t mind, as it was true… And she knew Heisuke didn’t mean anything by it at all. Carefully, she kneeled down to start unpacking her few worldly possessions, her eyes flickering up towards the men who had helped her carry it all here. 

“Thank you,” she said, bowing her head in gratitude. “I couldn’t have done any of this on my own, and you really are … You’re very generous men.”

Heisuke seemed primed to say something, but at that moment Nagakura entered the room, holding a couple of jugs of sake, one in each hand. “Housewarming gift!” he said with a broad grin on his face. “Thought we’d have a few drinks to celebrate your move!” 

“Oi, Shinpatsu-san,” Heisuke muttered, walking over to Makoto to help her with her task, as eager to do as much as he could as he always seemed to be. “What do you think you’re doing, bringing that stuff in here?” 

“What do you mean, ‘what do I think I’m doing’?” Nagakura demanded. “I just said that, didn’t I?” 

“I think he means that sake may not be the best housewarming gift for a lady, Shinpachi,” Harada said, standing behind them and laughing to himself, shaking his head slowly from side to side. 

Makoto looked between them and then stood up, walking over to Nagakura and snatching one of the jugs from him before setting it on the ground and rummaging quickly through her things. Wrapped in one of her nice kimonos were the very few cups she owned for this kind of thing, and she placed them gingerly on the floor as to not break them. 

Allowing herself a small grin, she looked up into a stunned looking Nagakura’s face. “Who says I’m a lady, Harada-san?”

Technically, she had these for serving the guests she never had, but… 

Well, she had guests right now, didn’t she?

“Besides,” she added as an afterthought, “it would be a shame to let it go to waste.” 

Nagakura immediately joined her on the floor, his smile practically ear to ear as he sat on the floor across from her and reached for the jug. Makoto looked up, watching Heisuke shrug and join them, and eventually Harada, with a small shake of his head and an amused sigh. 

In another few moments she had a small cup of sake in her hands, which she nursed carefully as she watched the guys start to drink in earnest. Makoto watched with interest, feeling… Odd, somehow, though not in a bad way. It was like she was looking into another world more intimately for the first time instead of just standing on the outside and observing, really experiencing a part of being a warrior that wasn’t just about death and duty. 

If being a warrior meant being ready to face death at any moment, it also meant living life to the fullest while you still drew breath. Even if you sought after an honorable death, it stood to reason that you’d live your life in a way that let you experience as much of the world as you could while still living in accordance with your deeply held beliefs. 

“So,” she said with a small smile, looking between the three of them, “I’ll be honest, this was really weirdly thoughtful. I’m not used to … This kind of treatment. Women don’t really do this kind of thing with their friends.”

Not that some of them wouldn’t if they could, she thought, it just wasn’t done. 

“Drinking’s like… Shinpatsu-san’s favorite thing other than wom--” 

Again, Heisuke got hit, this time by Nagakura, though it was more of an aggressively friendly pat on the back. “She doesn’t really need to know that, buddy.” 

Makoto just laughed, smiling at them all as she spoke, “I don’t know, desire’s a pretty normal thing for most people to feel, I think. There are some who could live all their lives without the touch of another person, but some people need to burn up that way.”

Nagakura looked surprised, and Heisuke looked a bit embarrassed, but Harada nodded knowingly before he slammed back a drink. “Yeah,” he said, bringing his cup down from his lips. “You know, everyone has a type, especially women. Learn how to be the guy a lady needs, and you might just win more than a single night. You could win her heart.” 

“It’s just weird to think of it that way,” Heisuke said quietly, “not about what Sano said, but about women wanting it, too.” 

“Of course women want it,” Harada said, laughing. “You’ll understand when you’re older, Heisuke.”

For a moment, the conversation devolved into playful shouting and half-hearted punches and pushes. Makoto wondered if this was what it was like to have brothers, but she only had sisters… Sisters she’d never really gotten along with in the first place. The sight of them filled her with warmth, and she found herself beaming at them.

Maybe this was a better house warming gift than she’d given Nagakura credit for. 

“What type of man’s your type?” Nagakura asked, drawing Makoto away from her thoughts, his blue eyes sparkling with curiosity and maybe a bit of playfulness. 

Put at ease by his playful manner, Makoto smiled and then laughed as she responded. “Out of my league, apparently.” 

Nagakura looked momentarily confused, but he shared a look with Harada and understanding slowly dawned across his face. Reaching up, he stroked his chin thoughtfully for a moment before slapping his knee and leaning forward, his grin contagious. 

“Come on,” he said, a confused Heisuke blinking at the expression on his face, “you don’t really think that, do you?” 

She allowed herself a wry smile, arching her brows at him. “I do,” she said, “because… Have you seen him? And have you seen me? I mean,” she gestured to herself, “I’m not ugly, but I’m hardly a looker.” 

“I really don’t think he cares,” Nagakura said with a shrug. “If he wanted a pretty woman, he’d go to Shimabara, but… Well, he hasn’t done that in awhile.” 

“That’s exactly what I said,” Harada said, smiling as he reached out to clasp Nagakura on the shoulder; by this point Heisuke’s expression was completely bewildered. “When it comes to love, men are looking for something different than they’re looking for when it’s just about sex. Women have to be the same that way, right?” 

Her face flushed slightly at the thought, and she quickly looked down into her cup of sake, taking a deep breath. “You’re not…” she started, running her finger along the rim. “You’re not wrong.” 

“Wait--” Heisuke interrupted. “I feel like I should know who we’re talking about. Makoto, is it someone in the Shinsengumi?” 

Her eyes snapped up to him, the heat on her face growing as it spread up to her ears. 

“Er…” she said, trying to find the words. “Well… Yes. You do know him.” 

A part of her mind was still stalled on Harada’s word choice. 

The idea that Hijikata could ever fall in love with her was as thrilling as it was impossible. More than anything, she remembered the feeling of his arms around her, strong and warm in a way that she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. He was strong, he… His embrace felt good, and to imagine that accompanied by any of the tenderness associated with the word ‘love’ was… 

The idea was impossible to the point of baffling.

After all, even couples married for years did not often love one another. 

Such an idea was impractical for anyone living in this day and age. 

Even if she was sure that many people secretly longed for it, so much so that they would indulge in the fantasy with a woman (or man) in places like Shimabara. 

“So who is it?” Heisuke asked, and Makoto could only respond by burying her face in her hands. 

“Hijikata-san,” she said, her voice muffled, certain the sake had at least something to do with the reason she was confessing to it in front of so many people. 

No one said anything for a moment, the sound of footsteps outside drawing their attention as all four of them turned towards the shoji screen just as the opened, Into the room stepped Okita, accompanied by a confused and distressed looking Yukimura, who was trying to remove something from Okita’s grasp, though he held it high over his head. 

On closer inspection, it appeared to be a book, and when he tossed it into Makoto’s lap… 

One look inside was all she needed to know what it was. 

“My gift to you,” he announced with a beaming smile before he got a better look around the room. “Eh? Are you drinking without me?”

“Chizuru-chan, Souji,” Harada said with a small smile and a wave, “come on, sit down. Shinpachi bought way too much of this shit.” 

“Come on, Sano,” Nagakura said with a laugh, “you know there’s no such thing as ‘too much sake’.”

They all began talking, Yukimura sitting close to her as Makoto looked down at the book, her hand brushing over the cover before curiosity overcame her. Biting her lower lip as conversation drifted around her, she opened the pages and traced the shapes of the characters with her eyes, reading the poems. 

Each was an experience, sometimes clumsy or awkward, sometimes lacking certain marks of the form, but always earnest and endearing in a way that indicated someone who truly saw beauty and fascination in simple things. There was no way that she could call them ‘good’, but at the same time, it felt almost cruel to call them ‘bad’ when they were such passionate little poems and reminded her so fondly of the man who had written them. 

Maybe that was why Kondo had wanted Hijikata to show her them. 

They drank together for another few hours, Makoto not drinking much more than she already had, and by the time the five of them left it was with more promises of visiting again. Nagakura, of course, ‘entrusted’ the remaining sake to her, while Yukimura swore to visit and Makoto returned her earnestness with promises of sweets at a tea house. 

Finally alone, she sat down with the poetry book, opening it again to look over the words written on the page, still stunned by how earnest they were. 

_ If only one plum blossom were to bloom, plum blossoms are plum blossoms.  _

Sighing, she resolved to return it to him the next time he was able to visit, but in the meantime she would take pleasure in the straightforward and simple words of the man she was slowly falling for. 

 

\---

 

Everyone in Kyoto knew about the Ikedaya incident the day after it happened. 

People whispered about the Shinsengumi, about how they’d stopped a plot to set the city ablaze and steal the Emperor from his bed in the Imperial Palace. They’d killed countless Choshu Imperial Loyalists in the process, staining the boards and tatami of the Ikedaya red with their blood, the smell horrible enough that people in the surrounding inns were vacating them as the humidity set the blood sweltering. 

It sounded horrible, but it also wasn’t surprising. 

What was surprising was how she’d somehow found her way at the gates of Yagi house under the escort of a certain Iba Hachiro, who had approached her that morning while she was out at the usual place and asked her to accompany him. There was a look of worry on his face as they watched, but neither of them had bothered to breach the subject, especially since she wasn’t sure how to approach him now that she knew for certain he was a hatamoto. Iba seemed like a very good young man, but she felt unsure around him knowing that he was someone so important, someone born into the distinction and duty of the most elite samurai in the land. 

In some ways, that he acted so humbly actually made it worse because it pushed him closer to the ideal, but… 

He’d thought to bring her with him, so the thought was oddly touching. 

“Hachiro?” asked Harada as they approached the gat, dressed in his blues on the way out, his eyes lighting for a moment on Makoto. “I guess you already heard about the Ikedaya, huh?” 

“I heard that several of your men were injured during the battle,” Iba said, his brows knit together over his eyes. “I want to come check on them, and I thought Hamamura-san may be worried, as well, so we came here together.” 

“Well, I’m sure Heisuke and Okita will be happy to see you,” Harada said with a smile, his grin only broadening as he saw the jug of sake that Makoto was carrying, “and if you give Shinpachi that…? He’ll be really glad to see you. He’s been bitching all day about having to sit out of rotations because of his hand injury.” 

“That sounds just like him,” Iba said with a laugh. “We’ll be sure to drop the sake off for him, then, though I’ll admit… It was Hamamura-san’s idea.”

“There’s no way I can drink it all by myself,” she said, “and he bought it in the first place. I’m just returning it.” 

Harada chuckled as he passed her, patting her shoulder reassuringly. “Whatever you say, Hamamura-san,” he paused and gave her a long look, the men patrolling with him milling around him as they waited. “You should go stop in and say hi to Hijikata-san. He’s been cooped up all day doing work. Maybe you can convince him to take a break.”

And with that, he and the other men walked away, their coats flowing behind him.

Makoto watched after him, realizing how tired he’d looked and wondering if he’d even bothered to sleep after what had happened at Ikedaya last night. 

Together, they made their way inside, people watching as she passed but not bothering to protest as Iba was serving as her escort. Into Yagi they went, immediately greeted by the sound of arguing from the main hall as they slipped out of their geta and into the building, immediately greeted by the sight of Okita and Hijikata bickering with one another. 

Like usual, Okita looked positively tickled, his green eyes sparkling brightly, but Hijikata… He looked uncharacteristically grim rather than simply annoyed. She’d seen him banter with the others before, watched him grumble in shades of grumpy and resigned fondness, and this wasn’t that. This was… something else, something more serious, which made Okita look like he was defectling and not taking the situation seriously at all. 

“You were coughing up blood, Souji,” Hijikata said, his voice firm and unyielding, “no way in hell am I letting you go out there today. Not today. Not for a fortnight.”

“But Hijikata-san,” Okita began, only to be cut off by the sound of surprise Yukimura made when she noticed Iba and Makoto. 

Immediately, both men turned toward their unexpected guests, Hijikata’s lips immediately turning tight, though Okita’s smile didn’t waver in the slightest. Iba was the first to step forward and the first to speak, his smile easy, as if he hadn’t just overheard their exchange, taking the jug from her as he turned towards Okita. 

“Where is Shinpachi-san?” he asked. “Makoto and I thought that you three would do well if you took your medicine with sake.” His eyes briefly strayed towards Yukimura and his features softened until they were gentle. “Yukimura-chan… If you could help by heating up the sake…?” 

“O-of course, Iba-san!” she said, immediately walking over to him as Okita shrugged and then waved for Iba to follow him, his eyes briefly straying between Hijikata and Makoto. 

“Then I’ll go get the Ishida Powdered Medicine,” Hijikata said with a sigh before pausing, his eyes flickering towards Makoto. “Coming, Hamamura?” 

Blinking, she nodded and quickly fell into step at his side, his strides long and confident as he moved through the Yagi house. It reminded her of how long the Shinsengumi had been here, well over a year, and just now they were starting to make strides towards progress, though at what cost? There were dark circles under his eyes, and she could practically feel the tension between his shoulders and in the divot between his brows.  

It made her want to distract him from the situation with Okita coughing up blood, which was obviously burdening him, though it took her a moment to think of something to say. Taking a breath, she smiled a bit and spoke, “so, Ishida Powdered Medicine?” 

“Everyone asks that,” he replied, his lips pressed into a thin smile. “My family manufactures and sells it. It’s good for things like cuts and abrasions, fractures, bruises…” Hijikata trailed off. “Used to peddle the stuff at dojos when I was going from place to place, back when I was just some brat.” 

“That’s… Tama?” she asked. “I’ve been out there with my father, selling pottery. He always told me having a pretty lady there helped sales,” she laughed a bit and then shook her head. “That’s why, when my sisters got older, he started taking them instead.” 

Hijikata turned to her, blinking slowly as though he couldn’t quite believe what she was saying.

“He actually tell you that?” he asked after a moment. 

“Um…” she shook her head, “but it was implied. I’m not my sisters. There are four of them and three of them were married before I’d gotten any offers through the matchmakers.” 

“Five siblings?” he asked, pausing in the hallway for a moment, “and you’re the oldest?” 

“Yes,” he said with a vague smile. “I remember helping them get dressed for their weddings, helping them through childbirths… Things like that. It’s strange, to be the oldest and to watch them take these huge steps before I ever had the chance. Except…” She sighed, smiling vaguely, “I’m good at cooking and cleaning, I can mend clothing, and I know how to wear cosmetics properly, but I’d be a terrible wife. I’m not…” she waved her hand vaguely. “I’m too headstrong.” 

“You’re an Edo woman,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Toku-nii’s the same way. So’s Souji’s sister, Mitsu-san. Doesn’t mean you’re unmarriageable, just means you need a man that appreciates your assertiveness.”

She laughed a bit at that, her eyes narrowing as she smiled, watching him stare at her with his usual intensity. The words would have sounded like flattery, before, but she’d read his poetry and she knew that a man who respected the integrity of the plum blossom and thought about the comfort of a good conversation on a lonely night would never offer her empty praise. 

Considering the regard she held him in, it warmed her to hear the words, her insides settling like bits of tofu in miso. She wanted to bask in the feeling for a while longer without reading too deeply into those words. 

“Thank you, Hijikata-san,” she said softly, smoothing her hands over the front of her obi. “I think it’s a bit too late for me, though. If I were ever to be married at my age, it would be a miracle.” 

He shrugged, then began to walk forward again, leaving her to follow after him. 

“I don’t believe in miracles,” he said simply. “Something happens, one way or another you earned it. Nothing happens without any kind of reason to it, which is why--” they reached a room and he stopped outside of it, looking at her over his shoulder. 

“I prefer to take matters into my own hands.” 

She stared at him for a moment, something about his words resonating deep inside of her, reminding her of that dark night when she’d left Edo forever. It had been foolish and she could have died, but she didn’t and she’d made it here and had managed to support herself so far. She’d even meet Hijikata, who’d lit the fire of something deep inside of her, something that she still didn’t quite have the ability to put a name to. 

Something more than mere admiration, attraction, or budding affection. 

“Hijikata-san?” she asked as he opened the door to the room and stepped inside, revealing a spartan space with a desk that had several books stacked nearby. 

“Yeah?” 

“If you wouldn’t mind… Could you come to see me sometime soon? I understand you’re busy with everything that’s happened recently, but I have something I need to return to you,” she said, watching him freeze as he kneeled over a small chest, his hand hovering over the lid. 

They locked gazes, his eyes wide and nervous for only a fraction of a breath before he heaved a heavy sigh and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “He gave you the fucking poetry book,” he grumbled, then slowly nodded his head. “Yeah, Hamamura. I can manage something, just…”

His hands plunged into the chest, pulling out several small packets of medicine, carefully folded in white paper, “tell me you didn’t read any of it?” 

Makoto bit her bottom lip, watching as his expression turned from one of  not-quite-pleading to one of resignation. She felt bad, but she didn’t exactly regret it, either… there was still something about the poems, something that made her smile. 

“Shit,” he muttered, and she wasn’t sure she was really meant to hear him, watching as he rose to his feet. “Well, you’re just about the last person I wanted to see them.”

“I like them,” she said suddenly, watching as his head snapped around, his eyes wide again. 

“What?” he hissed. 

“I like them,” she repeated. “They’re not the best poems I’ve ever read in terms of style and structure, but there’s so much of you in them that I like them. You choose to write about things that interest me, and they’re very thoughtful. I think that if you kept practicing and did more studying on what makes good haiku, you could write genuinely good poetry.” 

He just stared at her, his hands clutching the medicine packets as he rose to his feet, looking at her as if he couldn’t believe anything that she’d just said could possibly be true. Hijikata opened and closed his mouth several times before he let out a sigh, the hardness in his features softening before he looked away. 

“You know, I’m not quite sure if I believe you,” he said, “but… Thanks.” Hijikata paused, his expression warm as he looked at her, the kind of warm that made her feel suddenly shy, especially when he took a step forward. “When I stop by, you’ll have to make it up to me by letting me read something of yours.” 

Makoto blinked at him, shivering as he brushed past, close enough that his fingers brushed the back of her knuckles. 

“Now come on,” he said to her, “we should get this to the wounded. The sooner they heal, the sooner they can stop being a pain in my ass.” 

But in spite of the griping, Makoto was certain that he was worried about them, the care in his eyes apparent even in the sharp and uncompromising lines of his profile. 

 

\---

 

He came late one night and he brought food with him, entering her room with a bow of his head when she bid him entrance. The shoji slid shut behind him and he quickly moved to sit across from her, pushing the small box of sweets towards her with a frown on his face. 

It was an odd gesture, but it made her smile nonetheless. 

The way he took most things so seriously was endearing, and something she understood as a very passionate woman herself. Slowly, she pulled the sweets closer to herself and then handed him the book of poems, his hands seeming somewhat disbelieving as they grasped the cover. 

He smiled as a sigh parted his lips, and spoke, “Souji always steals the fucking thing. I can’t really remember the last time I was completely sure it was where I’d last put it.” He looked up to her, his mouth twitching in amusement. “Might have to thank him this time, though. I think it’s the first time someone’s ever said anything good about them.” 

“I really don’t think they’re horrible,” she said, returning his smile with one of her own, pausing as she worried her lip between her teeth. “Do you want tea?” 

Hijikata blinked at her slowly, then nodded, some of the tension draining from her as she approached the door and quietly asked someone to bring tea up to the room. 

“You know I--” he started to say as she returned, turning to him to look down into his face. “Hamamura--” Another sigh left his lips, this one more frustrated than the last, accompanied by a bit of a self-deprecating grin. “You said you wanted to write about the Shinsengumi.”

That wasn’t exactly what she’d said, but she nodded, sitting closer to him this time so that she could pour him tea when it arrived. “I want to write about you and the Shinsengumi,” she said to him in a soft voice. “I’ve already started writing down things you’ve told me about your days in Shieikan, though they’re rough notes more than anything else.” 

“Then you should hear about Ikedaya,” he says, his eyes sharpening as he looks at her, “all of it, from start to finish.” 

She blinked slowly, then relaxed, glad that he’d … Given her permission, even more grateful that she hadn’t even had to ask, somehow. He was humoring her, telling her what she wanted to know, or maybe he was like her and was just using it as an excuse to ease his own loneliness, to have an interaction that wasn’t solely a professional one. 

After all, being an Oni sounded terribly lonely. 

“I would like that,” she said, smiling up at him. “Thank you, Hijikata-san.”

“Just Hijikata is fine,” he said, giving her a long, unreadable, look. “If I’m going to be telling you this shit, we might as well be more comfortable with each other.” 

“Hijikata,” she said, testing it without the familiar honorific, finding it felt terribly intimate in a way that thrilled and embarrassed her. “I think I can manage that.”

He was about to say something when the person serving the tea announced themselves. Before long, the two of them were quietly drinking, sitting across from one another, alone once more with the steaming tea and their thoughts. 

It was a comfortable silence, one that felt easy, shattered only when he began to speak. 

“It happened because Souji raided a place we’d been keeping tabs on and we ended up questioning a guy called Furutaka…” 

She listened to him talk, asking questions where she felt appropriate, and found that he had an uncanny memory and an ability for noticing details other people might not pick up. He hadn’t even been at the Ikedaya when the situation had started, but he presented a version of events to her that he’d pieced together from reports he’d been given and verbal accounts, painting for her a vivid picture that brought her back to a night she hadn’t even experienced. 

It was easy to picture how humid it was that night, the stairs of the Ikedaya filled with fighting and the sounds death and grunting, swords singing as they clashed again and again in that savage dance. The rhythm of a heartbeat interrupted by the steel of the blade, the smell of blood and vomit, of sweat, with an undercurrent of incense, to churn the stomach and sting the eyes, the feeling of fear as eyes searched the darkness for the flash of drawn weapon. 

And then outside, in the open air, the Aizu standing across the broad street, Hijikata in white and blue staring them down with fire burning in the depths of his violet eyes. The stagnant air around him barely stirred his haori nor his hair, and the entire world held its breath waiting for the sounds coming from within the Ikedaya to fade and the conflict to come to an utter standstill. 

And when it did, when the world settled, everyone knew that the Shinsengumi had walked where no other man could. They’d gone into the darkness to stop the Choshu from lighting the fire that might consume the entire nation with war for the first time since Tokugawa Ieyasu had crushed Toyotomi Hideyoshi’s forces. 

All because the Oni in the shadows had stood his ground on that dusty street that humid night, refusing to hand over the reins to the undeserving and incapable. 

The thought of it filled her with a feeling she couldn’t quite explain, as if she was sitting in a room with one of the samurai of old rather than a man of the modern era, and she wondered if perhaps the rugged countryside might forge better warriors than comfortable castles. People who faced the kind of hardship that robbed them of family and caused them to make difficult choices, even if they were well off, might well be more suited to a life making difficult choices. 

Looking at him all she could see was a samurai, no matter what angle she viewed him from. 

“So in the end, you did what you set out to do,” she said. 

Hijikata nodded, “yeah. It was close, but we stopped those Choshu bastards short.” She could see satisfaction glinting in his eyes, reflected in the curve of his lips, and he continued, “we’re finally going somewhere. I’ll make a name for us yet.” 

“I… I meant… You’re a samurai,” she said, reaching forward to pour him more tea.  

He leaned forward to take it, coming close enough that she could smell that now-familiar warm scent. Hijikata reached out and took the tea, their fingers brushing as he took the cup from her, something about the way his callouses felt against her skin sending a shiver down her spine, her face heating up. 

It was a stupid, shameful reaction, but she couldn’t help it. 

Everything about him, from his beautiful face to the way his eyes looked when he talked about something he was passionate about… It captured her attention, made her feel things she’d never felt before. Whatever men she’d fancied before this had never gotten this reaction from her and she wondered if this was what it was like to start to fall in love. 

“You’d be one of the only people who thinks so,” he said, his voice rough and quiet enough that only she could possibly hear him. “Everyone else treats us like a bunch of thugs, just like the people we’re trying to stop. They forget that we’re sanctioned by the Protector of Kyoto. Hell, I think even the Aizu forget that, and they’re the ones fucking employing us.” 

She reached out, hesitant, before placing her hand on his shoulder.

Hijikata didn’t pull away, instead he offered her reserved smile, setting his cup down on the ground and covering her hand with his own. She felt like he was looking through her as his eyes swept over her, from toe to head, before they locked gazes. 

“Even if everyone else turns against the Shinsengumi,” she said, “in the end, I will always believe in you, Hijikata Toshizo.” 

He laughed but didn’t drop his hand, the crease between his brow making his face look somehow sad as he looked towards the shadows the lamp cast onto the wall. Makoto joined him, staring at the flickering shapes against the wood, the heat of his body so close to her own comforting and calming. Hijikata made her feel less isolated, far less like she was the only person in the world who understood what it was like to be afloat in a sea of uncertainty, a man who could look into her heart with a single flicker of his eyes. 

“You’re a good person, Hamamura,” Hijikata muttered to her, his voice soft and deep. 

A  _ ‘but’ _ hung in the air between them, shivering like a flame in the breeze, as he slowly drew back. The sadness lingered in his expression, and it filled Makoto with the sudden desire to ease her hands over his face in an attempt to wipe it away, as if her touch could somehow heal whatever it was that troubled him. 

Of course she knew she couldn’t.

The melancholy was like a part of him, something he wore over his shoulders more often than the Shinsengumi’s blue haori, that hung at his side just as often as his swords did. And how could it not, when he’d given so much of himself to this organization and had only just started to see the fruits of his labor? How could it, with such ominous clouds billowing on the horizon, promising storms yet to come? 

There was no way the Choshu would just back away after this, and depending on where they placed their pieces on the goban… It might change everything, could prevent the bakufu from maintaining its defenses. Their territory could be slowly chipped away at, and all of that rested on Hijikata’s shoulders, a constant reminder that sometimes walking in the darkness was a necessary measure. 

But in spite of all of this, Makoto found herself wanting to know him more.

He was a dangerous man to be around, but it wasn’t the danger that attracted her to him. Something else drew her in, a softness in his face and the realization that this sort of vulnerability might be something he didn’t show to very many people at all. She had no way of knowing if he could ever feel the same about her, but somehow it hardly mattered to her at. 

None of this was ever about how he felt about her, but about showing other people the way she was just now starting to see him. 

The man wearing an oni mask, tied around his head with a ribbon red as blood. 

“Maybe I am,” she admitted to him, lifting her eyes to gaze into his face, “but if I am and I see something of worth in you, then what does it say about the world that judges what they never tried to understand?” 

He smiled as he picked his cup back up, staring into the tea before he spoke. 

“It says that some people only see what I want them to, and that I can’t keep others out, no matter how hard I try.” 

And with that, he tipped his head back and drained his tea, the shadows still dancing on the wall just as the night time bugs began to sing. 


	5. Sincerity is a Burning Heart

Life returned to something of a normal rhythm for her, after a time.

She woke up, went to walk to a new shop where she’d found employment, came back and wrote, and then went to sleep. Her days were punctuated by visits from the Shinsengumi, usually Okita, Harada, Heisuke, and Nagakura, and oftentimes Chizuru. Less frequently, she would receive a visit from Hijikata, sometimes with Kondo, and he had taken to the habit of communicating with her in brusque letters filled with complaining about this thing or that. 

It was never anything official, of course, unless it was to talk about problems Okita or Nagakura had been causing him. More often than not, he wrote to her about things his sister had been writing to him about, or told stories about one of his brothers, Tamejiro, a blind shamisen player. He’d talk about Kondo, about the price of different goods rising and falling, about what the crop yield was expected to be like, and would ask her endless questions about her work. And always, always would he check up on her wellbeing, especially after the incident where she had been kidnapped. 

They were penned in a rushed hand, and she imagined him bent over his desk, quickly writing her a letter in between his more important work. She could practically see lamplight spilling over his inky-blue-black hair as the sound of bickering from beyond the shoji sounded down the hallway and a breeze stirred the branches of the trees just outside of his room. 

She would respond, of course, telling him about what it had been like growing up in Edo proper. Makoto regaled him with stories of the black ships and her first time seeing a Westerner in person, a tall man with hair like sunshine, his skin as pale as silken threads with a red dusting of color over the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks. When he asked questions she would answer him, explaining things about how she wrote and what she wrote, telling him that she would let him read some of it next he visited her. One time, when she had told him of an injury she had sustained when falling to her knees after being jostled by a pair of rowdy ronin, his next letter had contained a small amount of Ishida Powdered Medicine. 

That he always wrote back warmed her heart more than she could say. 

She felt more at peace than she had since she’d come to Kyoto, and her work improved, even on the days when she went for long walks in the morning when the streets were still busy and much safer than at night. Makoto found meaning in those days, forged friendships and understandings, and started to see the world through the eyes of a true warrior, men who dedicated their lives to weilding the blade in defense of others and to serve their ambition. 

She was out on one such day when coincidence determined that she stumble across Saito Hajime, browsing the street stalls of the market, his quiet blue eyes passing over various vegetables. By his side stood Yukimura, her small arms supporting a large basket already brimming with various foods of all varieties. Her eyes passed over Makoto and she smiled widely, waving her over, and Makoto made her way through the crowd to stand nearby. 

Saito’s eyes flickered towards her for a brief moment, and then he turned his eyes towards Yukimura, who was blinking at him slowly. After a moment, he spoke in a voice more calm and deep than seemed likely considering his size, “Yukumura… Would you go look for tofu?” 

“Of course,” the young woman bowed and then turned away, walking away from them to go mire amongst the others shoppers. 

Slowly, Saito’s eyes turned to Makoto and he reached out, taking a large fruit that seemed to be a citron in hand before pressing it into her palm. “I would like to give this to Souji,” he said coolly, “but I doubt that he will accept it from me.”

Makoto blinked, the texture of the strange fruit unfamiliar to her, rough and smooth at the same time… Somehow oddly glossy, with a strong sour scent and a vibrant color. Her brow furrowed as she looked at Saito, who stared back up into her face with his ever calm expression, though it was clear to her that he was worried. And why wouldn’t he be, if Okita still had a cold after all of this time?

Saito was a reserved man, but he served the Shinsengumi faithfully, and he did not strike her ast he kind of man to give his loyalty to others blindly. 

Perhaps it was the cool cleverness in his gaze or something about how he held himself, but she had never seen a man who embodied the spirit of noble samurai lords more than he did… In spite of the fact that he wore his swords on his right hip. Even she knew that this was taboo, that it was not to be done, and she wondered what kind of troubles it had caused him…

But some things weren’t for her to know. 

“And what makes you think he’ll accept it from me?” she asked. “I would think Yukimura-kun might be your best bet here, Saito-san.”

Saito slowly shook his head from side to side and then sighed heavily. “I do not wish to worry Yukimura. She troubles herself too much on our behalf.” 

Makoto watched him for a moment, and then turned towards the vendor, reaching for her coin purse to pay only for Saito to grasp her wrist firmly. She froze, watching him as he paid himself, offering her a small nod as he released her and turned his eyes back out towards the crowd. For a moment he scanned for any movement with his eyes and then set out, Makoto on his heels. 

“Oh, Saito-san,” Yukimura said as the two of them approached her, turning back around. “Hamamura-san! Will you be coming back with us to Mibu today?”

“Yes,” Saito answered before she could. “Hamamura-san will be joining us for supper.” 

She glanced towards him, his face impassive and utterly unreadable, and allowed herself a small smile. How often had Hijikata called Saito dependable in his letters to her? She was starting to see just why the Oni Vice Commander could rely on this man, as steadfast and insistent as he was. 

“I’m looking forward to it, Yukimura-kun,” Makoto said with a smile. “If you need help in the kitchen, I can certainly provide it.” 

She shook her head, “Heisuke-kun is helping me tonight.” Yukimura paused as she looked up into Makoto’s face. “I’m sure Hijikata-san will be okay with you coming to supper.” 

All of them began to walk back towards Mibu, the citron tucked into Makoto’s sleeve. 

So Okita was still ill… It was something she already knew from Hijikata’s letters, but it still left her with a gnawing sense of disquiet. Colds didn’t usually last this long, and if they did it was generally an indication of something more serious. Perhaps Okita simply hid it well, and knowing him he most likely was functioning as well as he could without it, but… 

She still remembered what Hijikata had said that day, about Okita coughing up blood. 

Taking a breath, she pushed the thoughts from her mind, startled when she realized that Saito had slowed his gait to walk beside her and was currently staring at her with his penetrative eyes. She blinked, looking into his face as they walked side by side, watching as he swiftly turned his head away and fixed his eyes straight ahead of them once more. 

“Is something the matter?” she asked him, and he sighed, shaking his head from side to side. 

“No,” he said, and then paused, as if carefully considering his next words. “You had a grim expression on your face.” 

Makoto breathed out a heavy sigh and then offered him a small nod. 

“I’m worried, but there’s not much that can be done,” she said. “All we can do is hope and pray that things turn out for the best, in the end… And in the meantime, do what we can.” 

He nodded, saying nothing, but she could see the flash of something in his eyes, like the spark of agreement. That was why Makoto had taken the piece of fruit from him to give to Okita, no other reason, because if it was just a particularly long and persistent cold… Then he could use all the help he could get. Besides, she was sure Hijikata had forced him into bed rest, and knowing how persistent the Vice Commander was made her feel a bit better about the situation. 

It wasn’t much longer before they returned to Yagi house, the Shinsengumi immediately welcoming her in like she belonged there. She didn’t stay to chat long, however, slipping away to find Okita sitting in the inner garden, staring up at the sky. For a moment she just sat and watched him, his auburn hair barely disturbed by the wind, before she took a deep breath and approached him, pulling the citron out of her sleeve and shoving it unceremoniously at his chest. 

“Before you say anything, I’ll have Nagakura-san sit on you and feed it to you myself, if I have to,” Makoto said firmly, Okita blinking away his shocked expression before he began to laugh, grasping the citron loosely in one hand. 

“Pushy,” he said, tossing the round fruit up and down a few times, his expression turning strangely soft as he looked at her, though it lasted only a moment before becoming mischievous. “So you heard I’m still sick, huh? Has Hijikata-san been gossipping behind our backs?” 

“And what will you do if he has?” Makoto replied, arching her brow as she swiftly sat on the bench beside him, joining him as she looked up at the sky. 

“I’d make sure to tell everyone else I’m ahead in our bet,” Okita said, and she felt him shrug beside her, turning his head to stare at her as he continued to grin. “We’re trying to figure out how long it will be until he takes you to bed.” 

She choked on her own breath at the words, lapsing into a violent coughing fit that harmonized oddly well with Okita’s raucous laughter. The sounds disturbed the birds from a nearby sakura tree, a small group of them flapping off into the wide, blue sky and leaving Makoto with a very distinct mental image she’d rather not have. 

Her face burning, she glared at the still-laughing Okita, whose eyes glimmered with childlike amusement at her expense. She could practically hear Hijikata’s sputter of indignation at the insinuation, and tried to push any lingering sense of disappointment down, focusing on the moment and the man she was sitting next to. 

“You can’t be serious,” she muttered as Okita’s laughter faded away. 

“I am,” he said cheerfully. “Come on, Hamamura-san, would I ever tell such a cruel joke?”

Makoto pushed lightly at his shoulder and he started laughing again, the sound drawing an irate looking Hijikata out of the building… Though his face quickly lost some of its severity once his eyes lighted on her. Instead, he let out a long sigh and placed his geta on the ground before getting into them, walking across the courtyard to them both, his arms crossed as he stared down at Okita. 

“I think the entire neighborhood can hear you, Souji,” Hijikata said tersely. “What are you doing here, Hamamura? No one told me you’d showed up.” 

“I asked Saito-san to take me when I ran into him and Yukimura-chan in the market,” she said, gesturing to the fruit in Okita’s lap. “I wanted to bring Okita-san a gift to try to help him get better more quickly.” 

He stared at her, scanning her toe to head like he always did in person, before he met her eyes. The brief look between them told her that Hijikata knew she was lying but didn’t intend to say anything about it to her, especially when he reached out with another long suffering sigh and offered her his hand to help pull her to her feet. 

“Well, I guess I can take time to eat with everyone, then,” he said, his hand lingering for a moment before he released his hold on her. “I should check up on some internal affairs issues anyway…” 

He trailed off, his eyes flickering towards Okita, who was grinning up at him. “What? You have something to say, Souji?” 

“No, Hijikata-san,” Okita said, glancing between the two of them one last time before standing and stretching. “I’m going to go for a walk. I’ll see you at supper.” 

Hijikata sighed heavily and watched him go, the frown on his lips growing for a moment before he turned back towards her. Slowly, he smiled out of one side of his mouth and then reached up to rub the back of his neck as he released a long breath, like a kettle letting off steam. 

“Thanks,” he said, his voice quiet. “He doesn’t listen to everyone, but I think you remind him of Mitsu-san.”

“Mitsu-san?” she asked, her brow furrowing as she looked up at him. 

“His sister,” he said with a small shrug. “She’s a scary lady.”

Makoto could only laugh at that, rising from her place on the bench to join him, crossing her arms over her chest as she looked into the distance. “Are you calling me scary, Hijikata?” 

They looked towards one another in the same moment and Makoto found that half smile still playing across his face. For once his eyes were soft to match, and it made him look younger, she thought, like someone who could still enjoy life instead of the man who ran the Shinsengumi like he was Oda Nobunaga overseeing the conquest of Kai. There was so much fire inside of him, so much heat, that she couldn’t help but think that he was some blazing fragment of Oda’s soul brought back to this earth to live again. 

“What’ll you do if I am?” he asked her, violet eyes shining with amusement. 

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” she said, smoothing her hands down the front of her kimono. “What kind of woman can scare an Oni?” 

Without another word, she walked past him back towards the hall and the sound of voices drifting through the air, like the distant melody of some song that appealed to the deepest parts of her heart. Behind she could feel his eyes staring into her back, watching her go as the wind rustled through the leaves of the trees in the little garden.

For a long time, the wide-eyed look on his face that she’d caught out of the corner of her eye would be burned into her memory. 

 

\---

 

One day, she was sitting alone and writing when she had an unexpected visitor. 

Kondo Isami, alone, asked for entrance to her room and came with food that she immediately recognized as homemade. It was probably Chizuru’s cooking, but it did her good to think that he’d thought of her… Though she was also curious as to why he’d come alone to see her. Much like Hijikata, he didn’t strike her as the kind of man to have very much time for this sort of thing. 

“Hamamura-san,” he said, sitting before her with that warming smile on his lips, “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Not much,” she replied, trying to sit properly in front of a man of his clear status and bearing, someone who commanded respect the way he did. “I’ve been working on committing to paper what Hijikata’s told me about the Ikedaya incident, but the going is slow.” 

Makoto sighed a bit and then shifted, glancing towards her inkstone and brush and feeling somewhat forlorn. Nothing was more frustrating than having the images in her head and not being able to translate them into words, to breathe them into life the way she wanted to, and she couldn’t help but feel she was missing some vital thing she needed to move forward. 

Kondo nodded understandingly, pushing the tray of onigiri toward her. “I’ve reached blockages with work before. Sometimes, you don’t know how to proceed because there’s a gap in your understanding. It’s often that way with students,” he explained. “Toshi’s a good example of this, actually. I didn’t make any progress in teaching him until I came to understand his thought process better.” 

She reached out, taking the still-warm onigiri in her hand and looking at the individual grains of rice. Taking a small breath, she peered back up into his face with a half smile fluttering across her lips. “So, Kondo-san, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” 

“You don’t need to be so formal, Hamamura-san,” he said in response, taking one of the onigiri for himself. “Please, relax. I’d like you to think of me as someone you can rely on.” 

He beamed at her, the sight alone putting her at ease. 

“Still…” she said, taking a breath. “For you to come here… It’s not that I don’t enjoy your company, Kondo-san, but it’s a bit unusual.” 

Kondo sighed and shifted, nodding as his face turned grim and he sighed, looking into her face. “I don’t know what Toshi tells you in the letters he writes you, but we might be called to assist Aizu in their efforts against the Choshu any day now. You’ve grown very close to him, and I…” he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, smiling. “I don’t want you to be unprepared for the eventuality of what active combat could mean for any of us.” 

She pressed her lips together into a tight line and nodded, though she immediately felt worried. Of course there had been whispers around town about the Choshu’s plans, and since so many here were Imperial Loyalists, the word on the wind was that they were going to do something to return the Emperor to the full glory of his former power. She couldn’t fully imagine such a thing happening or what it would even look like, but for the Choshu to do something so bold so soon after Ikedaya… 

“They must be desperate,” she said. “You pushed them into a corner and now they’re reacting accordingly. It’s only going to be dangerous for the people caught in the middle, the people of Kyoto, who will suffer no matter which side wins.” 

Kondo nodded, and she could see in the depths of his eyes that he understood, but a fire burned there… The kind of loyalty that only a samurai could truly possess. This man was a true vassal of the Shogun, a most loyal servant who did what he had to, though she fully believed he would do what he could to mitigate the damages to the common people. 

He had been born common, too, after all.

Who knew better what they struggled with than Kondo Isami and his stalwart Hijikata Toshizo? 

“That’s why I’d like to ask you to stay at headquarters, for the time being,” Kondo said after a contemplative moment. “I know it might be a lot to ask, but in all honesty only our injured or sick will be staying behind and we could use the extra hands. I… I also think that it would give Toshi some peace of mind to know you were somewhere secure.” 

She dropped her hands into her lap, staring at the onigiri there, his words stunning her into a momentary silence. It made sense that Hijikata would be worried about her, Makoto told herself; after all, the two of them had become friends through their letters, forming a bond through the experiences they’d shared in writing. But to think that she could affect him that much… 

If Kondo hadn’t been saying it himself, she might not have believed it. 

“Okay,” she said, bowing her head. “I accept your hospitality, Kondo-san. Thank you for considering me in this difficult time.” 

She heard him sigh, but it sounded amused more than anything else, and when she looked up at him he was still smiling down at her. The gentle look in his eyes put her at ease, and she straightened herself, finally dedicating her energy towards eating, listening to the sounds of distant and quiet conversation from the floor below. Somewhere, a shamisen played, and Makoto found herself lost in the melody, her eyes closing until the sound of Kondo clearing his throat drew her attention. 

“I’ve hoped, for awhile, that Toshi might find something important to him other than the Shinsengumi,” he said, his voice quiet and sad in a way that made Makoto’s throat tight as she swallowed. “I’m sure you’ve realized this, but he gets so caught up in his work, and as much as I know this has all given him a sense of purpose, I worry that he’ll lose himself if he keeps going this way.” 

She couldn’t say anything, not when the silence that fell between them somehow reminded her of the memory of ocean waves after a day spent on the beach. It was an echo of something, a promise of more to be said, so she lowered her hands from her mouth and waited, watching the way his prominent brow was drawn over his eyes. Kondo’s concern was evident, and it reminded her of all the times she’d seen the two of them side by side and she’d watched them ease the tension from between one another’s shoulders simply by being there. 

A bond she both admired and envied. 

“No matter what anyone else thinks of him, Hamamura-san, Toshi is a good man at heart,” Kondo said, his voice firm when he finally looked up to meet her eyes. “I’ve heard all about the ‘Oni’ epitaph, and it concerns me how there are things he won’t tell me anymore, but… I hope that maybe he’ll tell you.”

She watched, breath caught somewhere in the back of her throat, as he bowed his head to her, forehead pressing against the tatami mats. This man was rightfully proud and in an important position, the public face of the Shinsengumi and one half of its heart and soul, and here he was bowing his head to a mere serving woman. 

“Please,” he said, resolution dripping from every syllable, “take care of Toshi when I can’t.” 

Makoto swallowed thickly, nodding before realizing that he couldn’t see her the way he was positioned. So she clenched her hands in her lap and found her voice, making sure to keep her gaze steady on him as she spoke, “of course, Kondo-san. I’ll do whatever I can.”

Whatever he let her do, no matter how much or little that was, in the end.

The feeling of relief that washed through the room at her agreement was palpable, and a large smile spread across Kondo’s face as he raised himself back into a sitting position. “Thank you, Hamamura-san,” he said, “you have my gratitude.” 

“I…” she said, licking her lips as she cut herself off, feeling her face grow hotter as she glanced away from him; though she still had the feeling he could see right through her. “It benefits me, too, Kondo-san. I… Care for Hijikata.” 

“I know you do,” he replied, his voice gentle. “I would like more people to care for Toshi the way that you and I do.” 

They locked eyes for a moment, a silent understanding passing between the two of them, and once more she found herself marveling at the closeness of their relationship. There was an intimacy there that she hadn’t even started to breach, a deep and abiding understanding reflected in the depths of Kondo’s golden eyes, unlike anything she had ever seen before. What would it be like, she wondered? To know someone inside and out the way that they knew each other? 

It was said that love between Samurai was the purest love of all, a love for which either man would be willing to die. 

There was no doubt in her mind that Kondo would give his life for Hijikata, and that Hijikata would do the same, and though she longed to experience something like that herself one day… No matter what form their love took, no matter what shape was reflected back at her from the pools of Kondo’s eyes, she knew that she couldn’t envy it any longer. 

Instead, she could only feel honored that he’d felt she was worthy enough to entrust Hijikata to.

And just like that, the final piece she had been missing slid firmly into place. 

“I admire him,” she told him, “and I want to help him however I can. If my staying with the Shinsengumi while you’re busy with the Choshu can help him... “ Makoto took a breath, “there’s no question about what I’ll do.” 

Hijikata did what he did out of a sense of loyalty. 

Every story he’d told her about the Ikedaya was underpinned with deep admiration for Kondo Isami and each of his individual men, willing to die as they had lived. His act of defending them from Aizu interference had been a selfless act, the act of a man standing alone to protect the dreams that he and his men all shared. 

The very corner of a samurai was his heart, and she felt she had just looked into Hijikata’s.

It left her shaken to the core, and she found that the more she tired to understand, the more she wanted to know him. Not just what he thought, but what he felt, how he was coping, if he was cold or hungry, why he was in pain… And she wanted to be there to support him, to help him shoulder some of that burden. 

So much so that it made her chest swim with emotions that she couldn’t yet give a name to. 

Emotions she had never experienced before, that left every part of her aching for him. 

His words were a part of him.

Kondo Isami was a part of him.

She supposed …. 

She supposed that she just wanted to be a part of him, too. 

“You really are an Edo woman,” Kondo said with a kind smile and a bit of a chuckle. 

Makoto blinked, her brow furrowing as she looked at him, remembering how often Hijikata praised women from Edo. It was a habit of his that always brought a smile to her lips, though it had always confused her. 

His smile only widened as he looked at her, perhaps because of the look on her face, and he continued on. “Determined until the very end, and not the sort to give up.” he explained, “the sort of woman who faces her fears head on and does what she has to for the sake of others.” 

She shook her head quickly, frowning as she looked past him at the shadows of the maids who walked beyond the shoji screens. “I’m a very selfish woman, Kondo-san. I gave up on my family to pursue something most people would call an empty dream. Even wanting to help him the way I do is selfish, but... “ Makoto inhaled softly and then continued, “but I think Hijikata can teach me how to be a better person, which is why I can’t just go back to being the woman I was when I first met him. He’s changed me.”

She hoped it had been for the better. 

Kondo looked at her, his expression contemplative and kind, before he shifted, moving himself closer towards her. They didn’t touch, but his presence was calming in spite of the long look he had cast her way, the sound of his breathing loud in her ears now that he was so near. 

“Toshi would always tell me not to be ashamed if I thought I was doing the right thing,” he told her. “Maybe it’s time you let your guilt go, Hamamura-san, and live beyond the confines of your own past.” 

The words rang in her ears as she looked at him, the remnants of her onigiri still sitting in her hands. And as they slowly settled in her stomach like the rice she’d just eaten, Makoto wondered how much it was that Hijikata and the Shinsengumi still had to teach her. 

 

\---

 

The day the city was set on fire was windy, the sort of day that might have been refreshing if not for the smell of smoke and ash in the air. Everything burned, and the sky was red and black as Kyoto burned and left her to worry for the people who were out there, trapped in the hell that the city had become. 

Sitting in the garden, she stared up at the sky, her arms wrapped about herself as she wondered if there was anything she could do right now. It was unlikely, not when she and her few remaining worldly possessions were safe and sound here, but people were dying and losing their homes… And though Sanan said it was thanks to the actions of the Choshu and that things were being handled as well as they reasonably could be, she… 

Makoto still hated being stuck here, and wished she was as effortlessly androgynous as the young and boyish Yukimura, so that she could be out there and know for sure. 

Waiting was the hardest part. 

“You okay out here alone, Makoto?” a familiar voice asked, not quite as cheerful as she was used to. 

Turning around, she saw Heisuke standing there with a haori thrown over his arms, though he quickly thrust the garment her way with a smile on his face. She took it, shrugging it over her shoulders as he came to sit by her, staring up at the sky as he braced his hands on the bench beneath them. 

“I’m worried too, you know,” he said, kicking the dirt with one of his feet, the gesture so childish that she suddenly remembered just how young he really was. “I’m stuck here wounded while Shinpatsu-san and Sano-san are out there risking their lives for Japan. I want to be with them, backing them up, you know?” 

Makoto turned her head towards him, watching him reach up and touch his bandaged head, the wound he’d suffered at Ikedaya. “Hijikata-san won’t let me leave because I’m wounded, so I have to recover and drink more of his family’s horrible tasting medicine,” he continued as he made a face. “So you’re not alone, is what I guess I’m trying to say.” 

“You’re very kind, Heisuke,” she muttered, pulling the haori more tightly around her shoulders, sighing softly 

Makoto paused, worrying her lips in between her teeth as she thought about Sanan, with a lame arm, and Okita, still not improved from this mysterious illness. There were many more men in the Shinsengumi holed up here aside from the men she knew, men who couldn’t be out there helping while the city burned around them. 

How much of a toll was it taking on them? 

Or was it taking any at all? 

She hesitated, glancing over at Heisuke, who seemed to be waiting for her to continue speaking with a curious look in his bright green eyes. Biting her lower lip, she exhaled through her nose and then bowed her mouth to speak. 

“Never more have I wished that I was born a man than in this very moment,” Makoto told him. “I want to be out there, being truly useful to everyone, instead of sitting here doing nothing. I’ve killed a man, and at this point there feels like there was no meaning to that action, that there was no good that came of preserving my own life.” 

She looked down at her hand and flexed her own fingers, sucking in a breath through her teeth, her breath shuddering with the weight of her own emotions. Reaching up, she rubbed at her eyes with one hand, squeezing them shut to stop more tears, Heisuke’s eyes burning into her like the stare of the sun. 

“What have I done but rely on the Shinsengumi for protection?” she asked him. “I gave up any normal future that I might have, and all I have left are my words. At least… Someday, you might be able to help the people you love again, Heisuke. There’s nothing I can do but wait. Wait and… And be rescued.” 

He looked at her, his green eyes wide, before he reached out and placed a large hand on her shoulder, leaning forward to meet her gaze. Makoto was amazed at how gentle his expression was, at the way smile lit up his entire face, even with the sadness still trapped somewhere within him. Licking his lips, his smile widened, and he spoke to her in a quiet voice.

“We’re not protecting you just because you’re a woman,” he said firmly. “Samurai need something to fight for, you know? For me, that’s my friends, which includes you. Without you and a lot of others, some of us wouldn’t have anything to stake our pride on. Chizuru thinks the same way you do about all of this, I think, but you’re not worthless.” 

He breathed out softly, squeezing her shoulder in parting. “Sometimes, words are more powerful than a sword. There are more ways to fight than with a weapon, and I think that maybe you just need to find something you want to fight for if fighting for yourself isn’t working anymore.” 

Words were more powerful than a sword, sometimes… 

Something about that struck her, her breath caught in her throat as she thought about the whispers of the people. Kondo had told her to let go of her guilt, and Hijikata seemed to have an unwavering faith in her, and now… Heisuke believed that her words could be powerful.

She thought about the inspiration that she’d been brought because of the Shinsengumi, about how she could use the power she held to change things. It was a question all in power should ask themselves, no matter how meager their reach truly was. As characters sawm through her head, black words on a stark, white page, she realized that her life had been lacking purpose and direction. 

Perhaps her near-death experience had left her feeling that her own struggles had been pointless up until this point. Perhaps it was something else, but it was true that she had been listless ever since her kidnapping. 

And yet, perhaps it was fate that she had come here. 

She could still find her purpose here, among the Shinsengumi. 

Her words could sway people to see them as more than their reputation. 

She could repay them for their kindness, and show the world what it meant to be a true warrior. 

“Heisuke,” she muttered, feeling her chest swell with a soft hope. “Do you think that Kondo-san and Hijikata would give me permission to travel here freely, if I asked them? There’s something important I want to do.” 

“Huh?” he scratched the side of his cheek as his brows furrowed in thought. “Well, as long as you had an escort when you went back to your Inn, I don’t see why not. There hasn’t been much headway in figuring out who took you, but we don’t just give up on our friends, so if you wanted to visit I’m sure they’d be okay with it.” 

Makoto thought about what Kondo had said about her being important to Hijikata and released a small breath, closing her eyes. They were friends, and she was falling in love with him, slowly… She knew that. There was no way she could deny it any longer, not when he made her feel the way he did, somehow safe and nervous all at once. 

“Then I’ll visit,” she said, her voice resolute as she looked into Heisuke’s face. “I told Hijikata once that I wanted to tell the Shinsengumi’s story and that hasn’t changed. From now on, I’ll walk where all of you walk. If you can choose to take that risk, so can I.”

Makoto stood up, looking into the ash-blackened sky, a warm wind whipping about her and causing the trunk of the nearby tree to creak in protest. Life was not living without risk, she thought, something that she had once known that she had somehow forgotten in the wake of her near-death experience. 

Wasn’t her dream worth more to her than anything else?

If it was, then maybe this was where she had always belonged, by the side of the men attempting to achieve things others thought impossible. 

There was no place she’d rather be than here, nothing that had ever inspired her more. 

Once, she’d left everything behind to start over.

Now she would leave her fear and guilt behind to do the same, with a new purpose in her heart. 

“Well,” Heisuke said from behind her, his hands still braced on the edge of the bench as they stared at the ominous sky together, “even if it’s dangerous, I think it’s important to do something you really believe in.” 

Caught in the feeling of the wind on her skin, she closed her eyes and simply took in the world around her, the sense of purpose giving her something to look forward to. No matter how frightened she was for the Shinsengumi, this was the path she was choosing, and once Makoto chose to do something… 

She would stay with it until the end. 

That day, the smell of fire on the air served as a reminder of the consequences actions could have. It burned, just like the new purpose within her heart as she swore to watch these men and write about their dreams so that years later none would forget the name of the Shinsengumi. 


	6. Shadows on the Shoji

At some point, Yukimura had fallen asleep with her head in Makoto’s lap, slumbering away peacefully. In the corner, the lantern light was starting to burn low and she couldn’t bring herself to move and displace the girl, who seemed to have an awful lot on her mind. 

She’d come back from the incident at Hamaguri Gate with a distant expression on her face and had come to visit Makoto in the inn completely on her own. It was why she was here now, sleeping after having spent most of the day talking about all the strange things she’d seen. Yukimura told stories about men with incredible and impossible abilities, most notably of a pale-haired man with burning red eyes who had challenged Hijikata to a fight in order to protect the honor of the Choshu who had fled the battlefield.

In the end, the rite of hara-kiri had not been denied to them, though that was far less troubling than the arrival of this man. 

A man that Yukimura attested had claimed to be associated with the Satsuma, who were allies of the Aizu… Though only for the moment. Alliances changed, as fickle as the wind, and after the humiliation of being declared traitorous, the Choshu had gone back with their tails tucked in between their legs.  

Yukimura hoped it would be the last of it. 

Makoto knew that it wouldn’t be. 

Men who would light the city ablaze did not give up after a second slap on the wrist, not after proving they were willing to die for their cause, be it on their enemy’s blade or their own. 

Gently stroking her fingers through Yukimura’s hair, she sighed as she carefully pulled away and then tossed a small sheet over the young woman’s sleeping form. Restless, she stood up and walked towards the window, looking out to gaze up at the moon. It was full tonight, casting its silver-blue light against the tatami mats, pools of white peering between the buildings before they were swallowed once more by shadow. 

Somewhere out there was Mibu, and in Mibu were the Shinsengumi, who were probably worried about poor Yukimura… Poor Yukimura, who had been here in Kyoto for so long, and had still not found her father. The thought of her being alone here for so long would have been more distressing if she hadn’t come to trust the men of the ‘Miburo’ with her own life. At this point she wondered if Yukimura would ever see her father again, for it seemed to Makoto that they were simply sniffing out ghosts that would never surface from the murky past. 

But even if she didn’t have a father, that didn’t mean she had no family. 

The sound of footsteps outside of the room drew her attention, and Makoto turned, looking towards the door where she could see a familiar silhouette lurking. Creeping carefully across the floor, she slid the shoji open to find herself staring up into the face of Okita Souji, who smiled back down at her before stepping past Makoto into the room without invitation. 

His eyes lightened on Yukimura before he looked back towards her and sank to the ground with a graceless flop. Okita stretched out, and she sighed, closing the door behind him, though… Though she couldn’t suppress how undeniably happy she was to see him. He’d been struggling with his bad cold for awhile now, so to see him up and about - and apparently so relaxed - did her a world of good. 

She could still remember her uncle wasting away of consumption, and so she prayed every day that illness not touch Okita. There was nothing worse than watching someone’s own body failing them so grandly, to see them unable to eat, to watch them cough up blood as they starved until they were little more than skin hanging from a pair of bones. Makoto didn’t want that for Okita, someone who had too much warrior’s pride to ever take such a thing standing down, someone who could never just tacitly accept his own mortality when such a death had no honor. 

After all, the way a man died meant everything to him. 

“So this is where she ended up,” Okita said after a moment, smiling at her from the corner of his mouth. “Hijikata-san’s been beside himself with worry, you know. I think that when she gets back, she’ll probably get a scolding… Not that he can do much else.” 

Makoto could picture it already -- 

The furrowed brow, his eyes burning with anxiety that expressed itself all too easily as irritation, his arms crossed sternly over his chest as he glared down at her. He’d bark and grumble at her, then send her off to bed with a huff, watching her walk away only for his face to soften when she’d finally vanished from his sight. 

She’d seen it so many times in person, now. 

With Okita, Harada, Nagakura, Heisuke… 

Sometimes, she thought they almost understood that he came off harsh out of a sense of deep concern, but other times it seemed that they didn’t get it at all. As often as they joked about him being an “oni” this or “oni” that, an epitaph he embraced but one that hardly defined him as a person, she wondered if they thought he’d been swallowed by his role. 

Maybe Makoto only saw it for what it was because she hadn’t known him in Hino. 

Maybe it was only her distance that let her see him for who he was, because if she had known him before, she might have felt like she’d lost a friend, too… 

But as it was, she just wondered if he felt lonely. 

“If she’s not supposed to go off alone, she might deserve a scolding,” Makoto said calmly. “I don’t regret seeing here, and she needed someone to speak to about everything that’s happened to her, but… She could have gotten in trouble.” 

Makoto drew her legs up to her chest, staring back through the window to look at the moon. “It’s not as though I’m capable of protecting her, Okita-kun.” 

“Eh?” Okita cocked his head towards the side, blinking slowly at her before he let out a breathless laugh and shook his head slowly. “I guess not, but you could always use yourself as a shield, right?” 

Makoto narrowed her eyes, snorting at his tasteless joke, though she couldn’t help but smile in response. A part of her suspected that Okita somehow respected her for acknowledging her own powerlessness, but she couldn’t prove it. Most of the time, his opinions seemed to arbitrary, and though she was sure there was a pattern, he was so private that she had a hard time figuring out exactly what it was. 

“Well, at least I’d be good for something,” she responded with a wry smile, freezing as she noticed a second shadow just outside of the shoji, the shape one she immediately recognized. 

Makoto blinked, looking past Okita, only standing when she heard the familiar, belabored sigh of a man she now knew thought of her as a friend. 

“You can come in, you know,” she told him, a vague grunt his only response as the screen slid open to reveal the slender and elegant figure of Hijikata Toshizo. 

His violet eyes darted between the sleeping Yukimura and Okita, as if he couldn’t decide who to look at, before finally turning back to Makoto’s face. Reaching up, he brushed a strand of his midnight colored hair from his face, then turned his full attention back towards his direct subordinate, a sour expression on his handsome face. 

“I come here to ask Hamamura if she’s seen the kid and I find you here,” he groused. “Get your ass up off the ground and take Yukimura back to headquarters, and then get into bed and rest. Your cough’s not gone yet.” 

Okita sighed heavily, but moved over towards Yukimura after springing gracefully to his feet. There were a few confused moments after the young woman was roused, but she appeared to be temporarily spared from Hijikata’s well-meaning ire by her groggy, sluggish state. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she was lead away by an unusually gentle Okita, his arm wrapped around her shoulder, lead her from the room. 

Only when the shoji closed softly behind them did Hijikata sink to the ground, looking…  Tired, so tired than it came from somewhere deep inside of his bones. For a moment, he just stared at his long fingered hands, but then he finally lifted his head to meet her eyes, the furrow between his brow so deep that she could see his worries embedded in his skin. Slowly, Makoto approached him, sitting by his side and reaching out to place her hand on his forearm, reassured when he didn’t shrug away from her touch. 

“Long day?” she asked softly. 

Hijikata snorted, casting her a look out of the corner of his eye as he reached up a single hand and ran it over his face. She could tell he was on his last leg, but at least some of the tension was easing from between his shoulders as he relaxed underneath her touch. 

“Long month,” he muttered, a bitterness in his voice that wasn’t usually there. “There’s not enough space in Mibu for all the guys Itou-san brought with him, the new guys hate the old guys, and the new guys ask for accomodations every four fucking minutes.” 

He threw up one of his hands and tossed his head back, staring with a blank expression at the ceiling, his voice little more than an angry rumble. “It’s like they’re a bunch of snot-nosed, pissy brats who can’t do shit for themselves! And I’m the one who has to clean up the mess because Kondo-san is busy juggling all the politics they’ve brought with them and our duties to the Bakufu. Souji’s sick, we still haven’t found Kodo-san, and the state of the country is still a damn mess over ten years after the fucking blackships showed up in Edo Bay!” 

Yukimura had described a few of the changes, but she was much more focused on her personal drama for obvious reasons. It seemed things were much worse than she had realized and that the Shinsengumi were going to be at the center of it all, but it made sense to her, in a way… The bigger organizations became, the more viewpoints would begin to exist within them and the harder they would be to keep together. The Rules of Conduct were excellent for forging a small band of men into true samurai, but when a group of dozens became a group of hundreds such rules became much more difficult to enforce. 

Throat tight, she looked at him, watching him screw his eyes shut as he took a deep breath and set his jaw. There was tension throughout his entire body, and Makoto wondered how much it hurt to hold the weight of so much in just one pair of hands. Seeing him so affected bothered her deeply, and she found herself sliding her palm down his arm to cover the hand he’d left sitting on his knee, feeling his fingers flex briefly and then relax underneath her touch. 

“Does it sound like…” he started to ask, then exhaled sharply and chuckled, the sound filled with a distinct note of self-loathing. “Does it sound like I’m just bitching to you, Hamamura?”

“Bitching?” she asked him, leaning forward to get a better looking at his face while trying to catch his eye. “About what, Hijikata? The weight of the entire Shinsengumi? The responsibility of being the Vice Commander?” 

This time he paused, his eyes snapping back to her as he stared, and the ensuing laughter was much more earnest and relaxed. “Leave it to you to put things in perspective. I knew there was a reason I liked you.” 

“You mean it wasn’t my charm and good looks?” she asked lightly, her body going stiff when he shifted his hand and laced their fingers together, the expression on his face melting into something so soft that it stole the words from the tip of her tongue. 

Slowly, he reached up his other hand, trailing it down the side of her face with an aching tenderness that made her breath catch in her throat. His skin was rough, but his touch was so gentle that it could only be matched up the look in his eyes as he cupped her cheek and brushed his thumb across her skin. 

“Idiot,” he muttered fondly, her heart fluttering as he pulled her closer, so close that his warm breath ghosted across her skin. 

Saying nothing else, he tugged her forward by the hand and pressed their lips together. 

The first kiss lasted a few fleeting moments, her body relaxing just as he started to pull away, her surprise shattered by the sudden reality of his chapped lips against her own. Makoto let out a shaking breath, reaching up to cover the hand that still cradled her face with more care that she’d ever been touched with before. His eyes dominated her entire field of vision, so warm that she felt a blush creep up her neck and begin to burn her ears, though her thoughts were scattered again in short work. 

He pulled her back, their breaths mingling a second time as their mouths pressed together his hand slipping further back to cradle her head as he pulled her in even closer. Without thinking, she raised one hand to his shoulder, pressing her palm against him as their lips moved against one another, a soft sigh escaping her. Makoto let his warmth seep into her, her eyes closing as his hold on her hand tightened and she lost herself to the heat of his mouth and the soft sound of fabric rustling as she pulled herself still closer.

Hijikata kissed her again and again until she was left breathless, idly stroking the hairs at the back of her neck as he leaned their foreheads together, each gentle touch sending a small shiver down her spine. 

“That answer your question?” he asked, his thumb rubbing small circles on the back of her hand. “Or do you need another demonstration?” 

“It answers my question,” Makoto said, barely able to process what had just happened, her mind swimming with vague impressions of emotions, the sensation of his lips lingering against her skin. “Though I wouldn’t mind another demonstration.” 

She felt him chuckle this time, the sound vibrating through his body as he kissed her once more, a brief press of lips that felt no less electric. Makoto’s skin buzzed with the feeling of him, the tenderness of his affections clear in the way his fingers moved gently down the back of her neck, a small physical reassurance. 

Drawing away from her, he parted with one last kiss to the corner of her mouth, drawing far enough back that she could see the expression on his face. Hijikata looked pleased, maybe a bit amused, his thumb brushing over one burning cheek as he pulled his hand away from the back of her neck. The other hand remained where it was, entwined with her own, resting on his lap, her eyes falling to them as her heart continued to swell with this sudden development. 

“In case it wasn’t obvious enough,” Hijikata said, his voice still thick with amusement and affection, “I’d like to see you again, Hamamura.” 

“I…” she trailed off, licking her lips, “I’d like that.” 

His returning smile was all the confirmation she needed to know how earnest he was in his intentions, and as impossible as this might seem on the surface, Makoto wasn’t about to question the sincerity of the man she cared so deeply for. 

 

\---

 

It was a bright, clear day as she made her way towards the Shinsengumi compound in Mibu, side by side with a very talkative Nagakura and a quiet and smiling Harada. It had been several days since… the incident, and today she’d finally found herself restless enough to set out towards Mibu on her own. 

She… Was uncertain, and wanted to know for sure where they stood.

Seeing him again would reassure her, would remind her that she hadn’t dreamed up the feeling of his breath hot against her lips as he kissed her again and again. It would be proof, in a sense, that he could actually return her interest in him in earnest, that she wasn’t mad with infatuation, that it wasn’t some sort of strange figment of her imagination. 

Makoto wasn’t nervous, though, surprisingly enough. 

For the first time in awhile regarding her personal relationships, she was filled with a strange sense of confidence. She couldn’t say for sure what it was, but she thought it might be the fact that Hijikata was such a straightforward person that it didn’t seem likely he’d ever lie to her or hold anything back. In the past, her relationships had been built on an obligation, either contractual or familial, but now … 

But now she was choosing who she wanted to be with for the first time. 

The choice made her feel powerful in a way she’d never experienced before, not even when leaving Edo behind her for far away Kyoto. 

“So what do you think?” Nagakura asked her, drawing her out of her thoughts. “I kind of wanted to take the guy in just for harassing a lady, but…” 

“I told you, Shinpachi, he wasn’t harassing her,” Harada said quietly, a smile on his thin lips. “She wanted him to say those things to her. They were both enjoying it.” 

Nagakura looked confused, and Makoto found herself laughing in spite of herself, reaching out to place a hand on his broad arm. He looked down at her, something that she could only describe as a pout on his square features, his thick brows furrowed over his clear blue eyes. 

“Nagakura-san,” she muttered, an easy smile on her lips, “don’t be so hard on yourself. You have a very pure ideal of what a relationship between a man and a woman should be like, and one day it will win you an adorable wife.” 

She watched a bashful blush spread across his features and couldn’t stop herself from laughing the moment Harada started in. Makoto didn’t even push him away when he slung one arm around her shoulder and the other around Nagakura’s, scuffling along between them at a slightly lopsided gait. 

“She’s right, Shinpachi,” he said. “You and I are the kind of men who’ll attract cute, domestic girls one day. Now if only we could teach you how to actually talk to women who aren’t Hamamura-chan and Yukimura-chan…” 

“I can talk to women just fine!” Nagakura protested loudly, swatting at the still-grinning Harada. “Women love me! They think I’m fantastic and beefy!” 

Makoto let Harada pull her with him, swinging her arm around his waist as they walked side by side, a half step behind the now-glowering Nagakura. Exchanging a glance, Harada offered her a cheeking wink before pulling away and slapping Nagakura hard across the back with his open palm in mock consolation, Makoto barely able to contain her laughter at the sight of the glare Nagakura shut his friend.    
“Don’t worry, Shinpachi,” said Harada with his typically easy smile, “we’ll just dress Hamamura-chan up as a man, take her to Shimabara, and have her teach you how to talk to women.” 

The two of them descended into bickering just as the found their way to the Shinsengumi compounds, an annoyed Hijikata standing and speaking to a man she had never seen before, with long, matte black hair and a smug smile curling across his fox-like features. She could tell even from a distance, that Hijikata was annoyed, his arms crossed over his chest as he glowered at the individual in question, his dark brows knit over an intense stare. Not even the noise Nagakura and Harada generated could draw his attention… But it did draw the eyes of the other man, who passed them over with what could only be called a look of disdain on his features… 

Until his eyes lighted on her.

And then disdain turned to shock as he paused mid-sentence and blinked at her as if she were a hallucination that he could simply will away by wishing. 

“Dear,” he breathed, just as she passed. “What is this? An unauthorized visitor? Hijikata-san…” 

Hijikata’s eyes were immediately drawn towards her, recognition flickering across his face, followed quickly by something angry and more tumultuous. She didn’t know at first if that emotion was directed at her or the man, but she became certain when he snorted and took a step back and his violet eyes narrowed into slits. 

“We have an arrangement with Hamamura,” he said, his voice cool even as he reached out to place a hand on her shoulder, one that felt oddly… protective. “The Shinsengumi has dealings from before your arrival, Itou-san.” 

“Oh!” he pressed a hand to his mouth demurely, but there was nothing less than calculation in those coal black eyes. “Oh, of course! How silly of me, Hijikata-san! I’m sure whatever service she’s offering to the Shinsengumi is truly vital.” 

His eyes flickered between the two of them, the implication clear from the grin on his face alone.

Makoto felt Hijikata’s fingers twitch against her shoulder and saw his jaw tighten. 

“It is,” Hijikata said simply, “and if you want to look good when she publishes her memoirs, it’s in your best interest to make a good impression on her.” He turned to her, his hand moving to press in between her shoulder blades as he spoke, “come on, Hamamura. Let’s go.” 

They walked together silently for a moment, Hijikata’s hand never leaving its place on her back. His entire posture was stiff with annoyance, and she could tell that Itou’s words had gotten to him, even if he looked like he was trying to brush them off, his jaw still tight as they moved together. 

It was only when they’d both finally stepped inside, tabi moving noiselessly across the floor, that some of the tension dissipated from his profile and he looked towards her, Though he dropped his hand, his expression was so soft that she felt a blush rise to her cheeks, shifting from foot to foot as she watched him reach up to rub the back of his neck and let out a long suffering sigh. 

“Sorry about that,” he said. “He’s just asserting his dominance, but he doesn’t have any real jurisdiction over you so don’t let it get to you.” 

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” she said, pitching her voice so that only he could hear it, reaching out to briefly brush her fingers across the back of his hand. “If you ever need a break, my door is always open to you, Hijikata.” 

Several emotions flashed across his face in rapid succession -- 

Surprise, then thoughtful concern, before finally he seemed to settle on being … Almost bashful, letting out a long huff as his hand hovered over the hairs on the back of his head for a few moments before falling back to his side. Red dusted his sharp cheekbones, and he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye for a moment before he huffed, his lips slowly twitching into a soft and uncertain smile. 

“Might take you up on that sometime, Hamamura,” he said, his voice equally as quiet, “if you don’t mind my bitching, that is.” 

“I thought I already told that I don’t,” Makoto said, smiling as he briefly linked their pinkies together, squeezing ever so slightly before pulling away. 

“Toshi?” 

The bright voice comes from the adjoining room and Hijikata’s attention immediately snaps towards the shape lurking just around the corner. Makoto watches him for a moment, seeing him relax even further the moment Kondo sticks his head from around the corner and smiles his comfortingly broad smile at the both. 

“Hamamura-san?” he asked, then nods his head in greeting. “It’s good to see you, too. I thought I heard voices coming from in here…” 

“Kondo-san,” Hijikata says, and nothing else, his eyes shifting back to Makoto for the briefest of moments. “It’s time to eat again, isn’t it? We sending Souji out on patrol tonight?” 

“His cough is a bit better today,” Kondo agrees with a small nod, “but let’s send Heisuke with him, just to be safe.” 

Hijikata nodded, then glanced towards Makoto again, shifting his weight to his other foot as he let out a sigh and stared up at the ceiling. He seemed to be thinking about something, though he quickly came to a decision, turning his attention back to Kondo in short work. “Can you have Yukimura bring supper to my room tonight? Make sure she brings extra.” 

Kondo looked between the two of them, realization slowly crossing his face before melting his already bright expression into something truly gentle and kind. He looked somehow both proud and at peace at the same time, as though his gladness both filled him with a sense of hope and eased some hidden anxiety. 

The expression did not vanish, even as he bowed his head and spoke, “of course, Toshi.” 

“Come on, Hamamura,” Hijikata said, saying nothing else as he motioned for her to follow, the two of them heading off towards his room.

She’d been to it before, but not actually been in it, finding it neatly organized but still relatively cluttered. Large stacks of books and scrolls sat off to one side of his desk, his futon still out as though he’d woken up without any time to put it away… Or perhaps hadn’t gone to sleep at all. It was small, but considering one of the constraints of the Mibu headquarters was its size that wasn’t really surprising, especially given his personality and his habit of diminishing his own problems in favor of focusing on other things. 

She watched him, noting how quietly he moved as he shut the door behind him and then clicked his tongue in displeasure before stepping across the floor to place his swords reverently back in their place. For a moment he stared at them, and even in profile she could see the note of disbelief in his eyes… Coupled with the deep satisfaction of accomplishing one’s dream. The expression brought her an unexpected sense of peace, and she smiled as she took a few steps further into the room and then sat quietly on the floor. 

“Sorry about the mess,” he said, glancing towards her with a bit of a smile on his lips. “I’m not really used to entertaining… Well… Anyone. Wasn’t really expecting you, either.” Hijikata exhaled and then snorted, walking towards her before sinking to the ground by her side, his legs crossed in front of him. “Look at me, sounding like I don’t want to fucking see you. That’s--”

“It’s okay,” she said, cutting him off as she reached out to press her fingers against his lips without thinking. “I know what you meant. If anything I’m the one who’s imposing, so please don’t worry so much about it.” 

“You’re not imposing,” he said, taking her wrist to pull her hand away from his mouth, though he didn’t release it. “I want to see you. Wouldn’t have kissed you in the first place if I didn’t want to see you.” 

The affirming words caused her to swallow and she felt her cheeks flush with heat, earning herself a smile as Hijikata dropped her wrist. 

“Geez,” he said, his voice thick with amusement, “you’re really something else, Hamamura.” 

“If anyone else said that, I’d take it as an insult,” she said playfully, trying to fight off her blush and regain control of herself, still hardly believing how open he was with this when they were behind closed doors. “You sure do have a way of making a woman feel special, Hijikata.” 

He didn’t say anything else on the subject, taking a breath and tipping his head back for a moment before he stood again suddenly, as if remembering something. Makoto watched him again, blinking when he pulled something small that she hadn’t noticed off the desk, returning to her with it in hand as he sat back down. 

“Might be too soon for gifts,” he said, reaching out to brush his fingers along the back of her neck just like he had a few days ago, “but I was out running an errand and I saw this. It reminded me of you.” 

She looked down towards his left hand, her eyes catching on the shape of a dark hair comb, standing out against the pale skin of his palm. It was plain upon first sight, a single solid color, but in the light filtering into the room she could see delicate trailing branches and the shape of a moon peeking between the petals of a plum tree. It was enchanting, an entire world captured on the smooth and nearly reflective black surface, and she couldn’t help but reach out to brush her fingers over it. 

“For me?” she asked, feeling breathless but not terribly surprised that he had noticed it or that it had somehow reminded him of her.

Hijikata was a rough man, but he was thoughtful and he saw beauty in the world around him. He saw it in the shape of the spring moon over the temple gates, or the reflection of his own face in the river, or the pure and undisturbed white of newly fallen snow. Mundane things and experiences that other people took for granted… To Hijikata, they had meaning, and so she supposed she wasn’t surprised in the slightest…

At the thought that he might find her beautiful, too. 

“Don’t see anyone else here,” he said, reaching up towards her hair to remove the plain wooden comb she had there, “and even if there were, you’re the only one I want to give it to.” 

She bowed her head forward slightly, feeling his fingers swiftly and deftly exchange one comb for the other in an instant before he curled and arm around her waist and pulled her slowly back towards his chest. Makoto’s breath hitched at the feeling of suddenly being pressed against him, closer than she’d been to a man in a very long time, and she reached out to press her palm against his arm, turning her head to look up at him from over her shoulder. 

“Thank you,” she muttered, reaching up with her other hand to touch the comb, “I love it. It’s… I guess I’m not surprised that you have good tastes, Hijikata.” 

He snorted but inclined his head to briefly brush their lips together, muttering against her mouth as he pulled away, “guess that means I have good tastes in women.” 

He kissed her again before she could respond, pulling away with a sigh only when Yukimura’s voice from beyond the door announced her presence, leaving Makoto without his warmth.

A warmth that was penetrating the deepest parts of her, as unexpectedly beautiful as the sight of a pale spring moon against the plum blossoms. 

 

\---

 

She was returning to Hijikata’s room when she heard the sound of footsteps across the floor and froze, watching as the shape of a slender young woman drifted down the hall. Makoto watched her pass, worrying her lip between her teeth at the expression on the young woman’s face, deeply bothered by something. 

There was something very wrong, Makoto thought, though she had only seen Yukimra’s expression for a moment. 

She couldn’t think of a particularly good reason for Yukimura to creep around the compound at a time when only Hijikata could conceivably be awake. Sucking in a breath, she steeled herself and followed the young woman, moving with the stealth she’d mastered after sharing a home with an overbearing mother and her nosy younger sisters. Light on her feet, she followed the oblivious Yukimura down the hallway, watching as she slipped into the main hall and closed the door quietly behind her. 

Stopping just outside the door, Makoto set her jaw and watched the shadows within the room move. She pressed herself against the wall and muffled the sound of her breathing by placing her hand over her mouth and taking steady breaths through her nose. Inside the room  someone lit a lamp, and though the voices within were quiet she didn’t have to strain to hear them in the utter silence of the night.

“You saw them that night, did you not?” a vaguely familiar voice asked, the reclusive and ornery Sanan. “Their eyes as red as freshly shed blood, hair as white as a spider’s silk?” 

The sound of glass, being picked up and Yukimura’s gasp sent Makoto’s heart racing through her confusion. Red eyes? White hair? It sounded like a ghoulish monstrosity created for a sensationalist pamphlet, but red diffused through some kind of liquid was casting dappled red light over the screen and the sight made her blood turn to ice in her veins. 

“This… This is what causes that affliction,” Sanan continued, his voice oddly light, as if he had come to some kind of resolution, one that rang with the notes of foreboding. “It is a miracle drug known as the Water of Life, capable of healing wounds and granting those who consume it the power of regeneration… As well as preternatural strength and speed. However, as you have seen, there are certain risks involved in its consumption.” 

“Sanan-san… Please,” Yukimura’s voice was quiet and trembled with pleading, “please don’t tell me you plan to take this awful drug…! Nothing good can come of it! I don’t… I don’t even understand…” 

“Ah, yes,” the sound of laughter followed the words, melodius but bitter. “I’ve forgotten that you’re not aware of the extent of your father’s research. It’s true that Yukimura Kodo-san is a brilliant doctor, so brilliant that the Bakufu employed him in the development of the Water of Life. The Shinsengumi has been its proving grounds… And it is from his research notes that I have created this iteration of the serum.” 

There was a deafening silence, and Makoto had the distinct impression that Sanan was graciously giving Yukimura time to adjust as a favor. The pause in the conversation did nothing for Makoto, who was rooted to the floor, the descriptions of these … These creatures rendering her incapable of movement, fear seeded in her stomach and growing up through her throat to make it tight. 

“Father… How could you!?” Yukimura rasped, and Makoto could hear the tears in Yukimura’s voice, her own breath escaping between her fingers. “How could you turn men into monsters who… Who…”

“Hunger for blood?” Sanan asked her, his airy voice making it clear that the question was rhetorical. “Monsters who go mad at the sight of it glistening in the moonlight? Who can never again have their skin kissed by the sun?” 

Monsters who hungered for blood… Like creatures from ancient myths, much like Oni, walking about in reality. If she couldn’t still see the red light playing on the screen and hear the certainty in Sanan’s voice on her own, she never would have believed it, and yet here she was. Terror pumped through her body and thundered in her ears, but she couldn’t close her eyes as she watched Sanan’s shadow tear the cap off the bottle with his teeth. 

“Sanan-san, you ca--”

Yukimura’s voice was cut off by the sound of the cap hitting the tatami mat below, the hand hanging limply at Sanan’s side twitching slightly. The protest died in the young woman’s throat as she watched what Makoto could only see in shadows, Sanan’s quiet laughter turning manic as it pierced the impossible quiet of the night. 

“And why not?” he demands. “I’ve been robbed of my pride as a warrior, and now... “ Makoto can hear the tremble in his voice, though he takes a deep breath to keep it under control, “Itou-san has all but replaced me. If this serum can bring my arm back to me…” 

He trailed off, and Makoto knew before she saw the shadow move what would happen, her body finally obeying her mind’s desperate commands to move away from the wall. Wasting no time, she took off down the hall, not caring who heard her as s she slammed Hijikata’s door open. He still sat hunched over his desk, his head snapping up when he entered, confused expression turning to one of stern concern as he stood and walked towards her. 

His long fingers grasped one of her shaking hands, rubbing her palm as he stared at her intently. “Hamamura, what--”

She shook her head vehemently, looking up into his face as she grasped the front of his kimono with one hand. Her voice trembled, but she managed to speak, the words coming out strained and urgent. “Please, Hijikata,” she breathed, “please get your swords. I think Yukimura is in danger. Sanan-san… He’s going to drink… To drink--”

_ “What.”  _

He pulled away from her, grabbing both of his swords and looping them back through the tie at his waist without any sort of preamble. In his eyes burned anger, his jaw tight as he spun back around, the dark strands of his hair whipping behind him like a black storm. 

“Stay here,” he ordered, something in the depths of his eyes flashing like lightning, “and unless it’s me or Kondo-san, don’t let anyone else in, got it?” 

“I--” she breathed out, then swallowed and nodded, backing farther into the room, managing a nod. “Yes.”

He said nothing else and sped from the room, the screen slamming so hard in its wake that it rattled. Slowly, Makoto sank to the floor, her entire body starting to tremble as the reality of what had just happened sank down onto her. It really was… It was like something out of some sort of nightmarish novel, a thriller from the west, stories twisting through her mind and making hot tears well in her eyes. 

Monsters that fed on human blood, who could rip people limb from limb in the blink of an eye… 

And the Shinsengumi had access to a drug that could turn normal men into such creatures at a whim. The thought was too horrifying to be real, but… The look on Hijikata’s face was just like the one she’d seen in the tea house the day she’d met him. 

He was taking this seriously, as seriously as only an Oni could. 

And though the sight chilled her to the bone, there was nothing more she could do but hug her knees to her chest and cry to herself, praying that somehow things would turn out and that no one would have to die. 


	7. Braver, Faster, Stronger

She woke to the feeling of a strong hand on her shoulder, gently rocking her awake and opened her eyes to a familiar face. 

Pale in the morning light filtering through the window, it somehow only made the black of his hair look more like midnight and emphasized the heavy circles under his eyes, making her wonder if he’d slept at all. He looked haggard, and she found herself reach up to him from where she’d been curled up on the floor, her hand brushing over the side of his face in concern. Hijikata leaned into her touch, eyes flickering shut as he turned his head and sighed against her palm, breath hot against her skin. 

He didn’t say anything as he helped her to her feet only to drag her with him towards the futon, his arm wrapping around her waist as he fell with her, lowering them both down before he slowly started to tangle their limbs together. In short work, his arms encircled her and her head was pressed to his chest with her arms slung low about his back and their legs entwined, wrapped up together as though it was meant to be. Underneath her ear, his heart beat slowly and his breath stirred a few errant hears atop her head, where he had buried his face without uttering a single sound. 

They stayed this way for a drawn out moment before he spoke, his voice oddly loud in the early morning, as if it were the first thing to shatter the peace of dawn before even the birds could begin their chatter. 

“Just need a moment,” he sighed against the top of her head. “Just … Give me a damn moment to catch my breath.” 

In spite of his words, she felt his body slowly relax around her as he drifted off to sleep, and found herself following him before long. It was much more comfortable in his arms than it had been on the floor, and he smelled like  _ himself _ , a scent calming enough that she found herself drifting off. 

Truthfully, it was the easiest she’d fallen asleep in months, ever since she had been taken by Imperial Loyalists. 

Only when the light grew too uncomfortably bright did they both finally wake, side by side on his futon and still completely clothed. She wasn’t sure who started moving first, only completely certain that one moment everything was dark and that the next she was looking into his eyes, violet dominating her vision as he stirred. They slowly separated, Hijikata pushing himself to a seated position as he looked down at her, reaching down to brush a strand of earrant hair away from her face while wearing a thoughtful expression.  

“Sorry,” he said quietly, “didn’t mean to fall asleep on you, Hamamura.” 

“You probably should have slept longer,” she muttered in response, staring up at him from where she laid on her side. “We can’t have nodded off together for more than a few hours.” 

“And that’s still probably too long,” Hijikata said with a long sigh, pausing as he narrowed his eyes and stared straight ahead, his expression making her stomach churn with uncertainty. “What… What did you hear? Last night?” 

Makoto took a deep breath and slowly pushed herself into a sitting position, drawing her legs to her chest before she reached up to her hair and removed the comb. Slowly, she stroked her thumbs over the pattern before she exhaled and then looked back into his face, biting down hard on her bottom lip. 

“They’re monsters,” she said, her voice as quiet as a later summer evening’s breeze. “Monsters with red eyes and white hair who feed on the blood of their victims. They were created through some sort of elixir that grants the ability to regenerate wounds and Yukimura’s father helped to --”

“So you heard…” he said, his voice deep and rough with anger, “everything.” 

His hand struck the futon hard enough that her eyes immediately snapped towards him, watching him run his fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands as he glared at the wall. She wasn’t sure whether his gaze was cold enough to freeze or hot enough to set the room on fire, but it only confirmed what she already knew -- 

That she’d heard something she absolutely shouldn’t have. 

“Fuck!” 

The word echoed through her mind, settling in her stomach like a cold bit of lead. 

Still, in spite of the horrifying looking on his face, she found herself moving closer, reaching out to pull his hand away from his face. Makoto ran her thumbs over his palm, feeling him start to relax underneath her touch, glancing up at him from underneath her lashes to find him staring back at her with a truly heart wrenching look in his eyes. 

“I didn’t want you involved in this shit,” he said, his voice as rough as the calluses on his hands. “Now I don’t know what the hell we’re gonna do about this.” 

His eyebrows furrowed even more deeply as his mouth pressed into a line so tight that his lips turned white with the strain. Makoto swallowed, running her tongue along the back of her teeth as she moved closer, leaning her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes. After a moment, she felt him slide the comb she’d put on her lap back into her hair, his fingers slowly brushing through the loose strands. 

“I don’t wanna make things worse on you than they already are,” Hijikata muttered after a moment, “but I don’t think I have a choice. There’s no way I can let you leave our sight, not when you’re already a target.” 

“You’re…” she breathed out slowly, chewing on her bottom lip as she grasped the front of his kimono with her fingers. “You’re going to take me prisoner?” 

“Furies aren’t something that should be fucked with,” came his hard response, his arm falling to wrap around her shoulder, holding her close. “Anyone who wasn’t here when the Mibu Roshigumi became the Shinsengumi doesn’t know about them. Just you… And Yukimura.” 

He paused, and she could hear the anger seeping into his voice. 

This wasn’t something he wanted to do. 

Someone like him would never want to do something like this. His nature was… Kind, and concerned with what he could do for other people. She had seen it in the way he’d tried to keep Okita from overextending himself, or how he threw himself into making sure that the patrol schedule aligned in ways that every man worked with someone he trusted and respected. Hijikata had even purchased this comb for her, a thoughtful gift that had taken his clever eye to spot, so for him to have to do these kinds of things… 

“It’s not your fault,” Makoto muttered. “It’s… Not as though I really had much of a life here to begin with, if I’m being honest.” 

“Just…” he exhaled, “I have no idea how the fuck I’m going to explain this to Itou.” 

“You could ask Kondo-san for ideas,” she suggested gently, lifting her head to look up into his face, reaching out to stroke her fingers along his jaw. “You’re not alone. You don’t have to do this by yourself.” 

His eyes widened and his cheeks turned a bit pink, his hand reaching out to cover hers and hold it against his skin. There was something soft in that expression, flickering in the depths of his beautiful eyes like the flame of a candle as her words hung between them. His mouth opened and closed slowly, some of the tension easing from between his brow as he stared back at her with that soft look.

Just Hijikata seemed primed to say something, a voice spoke from just beyond the door stopped him, his head snapping back to attention. 

“Vice Commander,” Saito’s soft voice drifted into the room, “Counselor Itou is requesting your presence for a debriefing.”

“Of course he is,” Hijikata grumbled underneath his breath, then spoke to Saito. “Tell the bastard not to get his fundoshi in a twist. I’ll be right there.” 

He pulled away from her and then stood, quickly straightening his clothing before looking down into her face. Makoto could see him thinking, watching him as he stared at her with his brows furrowed and his expression contemplative. When he spoke, his voice was that of the Vice Commander, and it was clear to her that she was being given an order … Her very first as a true ward of the Shinsengumi. 

“Go find Yukimura,” he said. “She’ll be resting her her room. Then get Souji or Shinpachi to take you back to the Inn to get your stuff. I’ll talk to Kondo-san later -- Figure out what the hell to do about having a woman here, and how we’re gonna swing that with Itou-san.” 

He let out another breath and then he was just Hijikata again, the man who touched her skin with gentle fingers and shot her wry smiles out of one corner of his mouth. 

“Be careful, Hamamura,” he looked back towards the door, calm rolling over his face like the bright light just after a storm. 

Then, without another word, he slipped out of the room and left her alone once more. 

For a moment, Makoto sat and took in everything that had happened, listening to the sounds of distant movement throughout the old house. Distant conversations and the tap of footsteps against the ground, the chirping of birds, and wind through the trees. Even the world out there was dark, even though her mind still struggled to wrap itself around what had happened, there were some things that never changed. 

The thought was comforting. 

And in a way… 

In a strange way, it made her happy. 

She would be living with people again, people that she cared about and respected, who she believed cared about her in return. What she had envied Yukimura for would finally be hers again, after losing the sense of closeness she’d had with her family… Only that it would be with people who respected her ambitions and wished for her to succeed. 

It didn’t feel like being a prisoner to her.

It felt like gaining a part of her life back. 

Taking a deep breath, Makoto pushed herself to her feet and smoothed her hands over her kimono. Whatever happened now, her life was in the Shinsengumi’s hands, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

 

\---

 

Makoto was dressed modestly, kneeling in front of Itou, Hijikata, and Kondo. 

Around them the halls of their new base rose, the Temple of Nishi Hongwanji, and she had to admit that she felt dwarfed by it. The room was large enough to fit hundreds of men easily, but at the moment only the captains and the leadership of the organization itself were present… Except for Sanan, who was rumored to have deserted and been forced to commit seppuku. Itou seemed smug about the whole affair, and it made Makoto sick just to think that he could take such pleasure from just the rumor of a death. 

There was no glory to be found in bloodshed, only the cold comfort of honor… 

Something which Itou lacked. 

“I’m sorry to hear about your unfortunate situation, Hamamura-san,” he said in a soft and airy voice. “It’s truly terrible to hear about the loss of your home and job in the fires of the Hamaguri Gate Rebellion. Truly, Kondo-san is a wise and generous man to offer you sanctuary in return for your services as a record keeper and scribe.” 

She bowed low to the ground, her forehead touching the floor, and took a deep breath before she straightened and spoke, “you are a great man as well, Itou-san. I know I am but a simple woman, but you’ve shown me a great deal of understanding and honor me in a way I do not wholly deserve.” 

“And you’re polite, as well!” Itou said with a laugh that drifted throughout the hall and echoed about them. “I’m certain you will serve Hijikata-san splendidly, my dear woman,” he smiled, and she did not miss the flash of innuendo in his grey eyes. “He is very blessed to have someone so prepared to repay her dues in his service.” 

“Thank you, Itou-san,” Makoto said again in a calm voice, grateful when Kondo cut him off preemptively, preventing him from saying anything further. 

“You don’t need to be so apologetic, Hamamura-san,” he said in his usual gentle voice, a smile turning his lips upward. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. The Shinsengumi gives you its word that we will protect you. I promise you this, as your Commander.” 

“Thank you,” she said again, though this time her words rang with genuine relief, especially when Hijikata stood and walked over to her, motioning for her to get to her feet. 

She stood, bowed one last time to Itou, and then followed Hijikata from the room when he he began to walk, quickly making her way after him. He didn’t speak, but she could see he was annoyed from the slant of his brows and the length of his stride, gait slowing only when the neared the area the officer’s chambers had been placed in, pausing in front of a door before he opened it for her. 

“You’re here,” he said after a breath, though he needn’t have told her that. 

She could guess that much when she saw her familiar books and scrolls piled neatly on the desk in one corner of the room and a pile of her clothing pushed aside where it had surely been thrown after they’d moved her things here. What was new, however, were several pairs of hakama, laid out on the floor nearby, and Makoto blinked, turning her head towards Hijikata who was already staring at her with his usually intense expression. 

“You’ll need to get around more quickly,” he explained. “If you need help tying the things, ask Yukimura.” He pressed his lips together and then smiled, leaning forward ever so slightly, her heart leaping into her throat though it was little more than an incline of his head. “If you need help untying them, you can ask me.” 

“Do you want to help me untie them?” she asked without thinking, watching his eyes go wide as his cheeks colored ever so slightly, a surprised grunt escaping between his parted lips. 

“I asked for that, didn’t I?” he breathed, then stepped aside so that she could enter her room first, and though she had no reason to feel this way… 

Being here felt right.

Perhaps the first right thing she’d felt in quite awhile. 

“You did,” she said, allowing herself her own small grin as she looked back over her shoulder, “but I wouldn’t mind if you answered yes. I bet you’re good with your fingers.” 

“Ask me later, and maybe you’ll find out,” Hijikata said, looking around the room with his usual level of scrutiny before he turned back towards her, reaching out to briefly touch the side of her face. 

His expression was serious, earnest as it always was, and in his violet eyes a flame was reflected back at her, deep and hungry. There, flicking inside of him, there was desire, a desire for her, of all people, the sight of it rendering her momentarily breathless as his fingers trailed across his skin before his hand dropped idly back to his side. 

“You…” Makoto started to say, her breath hitching as she met his gaze. “You mean that, don’t you?”

“When have I ever given you the impression that I don’t--” 

The sound of something clattering to the ground with a thunderous echo caused his head to snap back towards the open door. He made a noise in the back of his throat as his eyes narrowed and he heaved a heavy sigh sigh, and then walked away, shutting the door behind him.

Makoto was left on her own, pulling one of the pair of hakama up off the floor and managing to tie them just well enough on her own, started when the sound of a voice from outside drew her attention. Freezing, it took her a moment to respond to the sudden intrusion, though she quickly gathered her wits and opened the room, bowing deeply to the serenely smiling Counselor Itou. 

What had she done to deserve this? 

“Itou-san,” she said, stepping aside for him, “to what do I owe the pleasure of your company? Would you perhaps like me to prepare tea?” 

“That’s not necessary, but you are quite the gracious hostess,” Itou said with a smile, stepping inside of the room. “I wanted the chance to speak to you in private. I’ll admit, I’m quite curious as to how a woman like you managed to capture the eye of a man as discerning as Hijikata-san.” 

“Oh, it’s not so interesting a story, Itou-san,” she said, sitting down politely in front of him. “We simply met because of happenstance and continued to correspond because of my interest in interviewing the Shinsengumi, as you well know. Because of this, when my home was destroyed by the fires, he recommended my services to Kondo-san.” 

“So he simply knew how efficient of a worker you were after you’d struck up a rapport,” Itou said, and for some reason she believed that he meant it. “I’ll admit, it’s quite curious to me that he keeps favoring those from Edo, but in this case I am quite willing to believe it a coincidence. There’s certainly no indication you knew one another before hand.”

Makoto shook her head, swallowing down her annoyance. 

“I grew up in Edo itself, Itou-san. I’d heard of you and your dojo long before I’d ever heard of Hijikata Toshizo of the Shinsengumi,” she said, working to keep her tone respectful and to flatter his ego. “After all, you’re a man of renown, Itou-san, and a samurai by birth.” 

The words tasted bitter on her tongue, but her remaining here was in part dependant on his good graces so she couldn’t do anything else. After all, she was a woman, and though women were not strictly forbidden from being in the Shinsengumi’s compound, her gender put her at the mercy of the men here. 

Especially powerful men like Itou Kashitorou. 

“Indeed I am, young lady,” he said, pleased as a partridge and smiling widely, pausing as he considered her before continuing to speak. “You must be quite well read, if you are considering writing as a form of providing a living for yourself.” 

“I would not make such claims of myself, Itou-san,” Makoto said, arranging her hands carefully in her lap as she desperately wished he would leave behind her composed expression. “However, I do make a point of trying to remain aware of the trends of the day. I doubt that I am nearly as well read as a man like yourself.” 

He laughed airly, and the sound brought with it a sense of relief as she watched glee sparkle in the depths of his dark eyes. Still smiling, he removed the fan he kept in his belt and aired himself with it, speaking in that same, airy voice, “oh, you flatter me, Hamamura-san! You’re quite the delightful woman, indeed! I’m beginning to see how you charmed Hijikata-san so!” 

“If you’re pleased with me, Itou-san, then I am the delighted one,” she said with a bow, earning herself another laugh. 

The sound of the door sliding open caused them both to snap their heads towards the door, where Hijikata stood with his arms crossed over his chest. His violet eyes were narrowed into slits, and Makoto marveled at the way he could be so open with his displeasure around Itou, just barely concealing his clear dislike with a polite bow. 

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked just as Itou stood and bowed his head towards Makoto. 

“Not at all, Hijikata-san,” Itou said in his warm and musical voice. “I was simply properly welcoming our dear Hamamura-san properly into the fold.” 

With a snap, his fan closed and he tucked it back into his obi with a flourish, bowed, and then made his way from the room. 

The moment he left, Hijikata shut the door behind him, glaring at the shoji in his wake for a good minute before turning back around to face her. Sighing heavily, he sunk to the floor by her side before reaching out to pull her closer to him, his hand slung around her waist. 

Making a surprised noise in the back of her throat, she looked up into his face and braced her hands against him, finding him already staring back at her. 

“I don’t have much time to waste,” he said, “but I wanted to come back and check on you.” 

She looked up at him, releasing a soft breath through her slightly parted lips, feeling her face flush as he leaned closer. Makoto felt his other hand cup her face, pulling her closer before he kissed her, long and slow, the fingers of his other hand winding into the fabric of her hakama to tug her flush against his chest. 

“Does… Does kissing me…” she managed in between the press of his lips against hers, “count as … checking up on me now… Hijikata?” 

He snorted as he pulled away from her, though his hand still touched her face as he stroked his fingers gently along her jaw. “I need to talk to you later,” he said, so quiet that his voice was nearly lost to the chirping of the birds, “but right now… I have shit to do.” 

Hijikata pulled away and she watched him stand, staring at the door with an expression on his face that she could only call … disgruntled. It was so like him, Makoto thought, and she knew for certain that he would do everything he could to ensure the success of the Shinsengumi. That drive and determination was something she respected, and now that she lived here, as a ward and servant of the Shinsengumi?

She suspected she would be seeing a great deal more of it. 

“Go find Saito,” he said, pausing at the door, “I asked him to help you learn how to hold a sword properly, that way…” Hijikata trailed off, and she could see him thinking about the time she’d been taken, the thoughts buzzing just beyond the depths of his dark gaze. “If those bastards have the gall to try and take you again, you’ll know how to point the blade.” 

She doubted she’d ever be much use, honestly, though she’d already killed a man. 

Makoto had started to understand that she’d just been lucky, that there was no way she’d have ever been able to kill that man if he had been expecting her to attack him. The thought that she could have died… It affected her more now than it had at the time, and it made Hijikata’s suggestion feel like a good idea to her.

Though she hoped she’d never have to kill a man again. 

But… 

It was better to be prepared. 

If she was going to be privy to the Shinsengumi’s secrets, she needed to be able to protect herself. After all, even Yukimura… Even Yukimura could use a blade to defend herself, if push came to shove. Makoto couldn’t even do that much, not really, leaving her as little more than a burden to Hijikata and Kondo, the two men she respected most in this world. 

Steeling herself with a breath, she squeezed her fits together tightly at her sides until her blunt nails bit into her palms, and then stepped forward with a sense of determination. 

Pausing at the threshold, she looked back into the room and then reached up towards her hair, carefully removing the comb Hijikata had given her. Tenderly, she placed it atop the desk next to her brushes, her fingers brushing fondly over the lacquered surface as she pulled away, keeping it here where it was safe so that there was no risk of it being broken. 

Then she set her jaw, held her head high, and strode forward, determined to make something of herself… Not just for the sake of no longer being a burden, but because she had started to change and she could no longer accept the person she was. 

One step at a time, Makoto swore, she would become a woman worthy of their trust. 

 

\---

 

Sunset had turned the world bright orange and violet, a pinkish hue cast across the ground as Makoto moved in the way Saito had shown her. She felt foolish, the weight of anything even resembling a blade unfamiliar to her, but she refused to give in or stop, even when sweat dripped from her brow and her clothing clung to her body. 

How long she’d been here, she didn’t know. 

The sounds of her movement echoed as she tried to perfect the stance, at the very least, so that she could move on and start to learn other things. Part of her suspected she’d be better off if she could read and study on her own, but she wasn’t in any sort of position to do that… And still, she could feel eyes on her, as men passed her by on their way to do this thing and that. 

Some looked amused, others dismissive, others simply indifferent, but she couldn’t let any of them get to her. Makoto had to prove to herself she wouldn't weigh down the men who had invested their time and faith into her, the desperate desire to be more than dead weight burning in her breast, making her immune to the chill of her sweat cooling in the coming night. 

“Hamamura-san?” 

It was the voice that finally drew her from her repetitive movements, her head turning as her dark hair clung to her flushed skin. The tone of that voice was familiar, filled with gentle concern, and belonged to a pair of arms that reached out to catch her as she swayed underneath the sudden burden of her own carelessness.

Makoto’s entire body felt weak, as soft as steamed rice, her muscles aching as a chill wracked her body. She would have been unable to support her weight if not for the strength of the man who was suddenly supporting her, looking down into her face while wearing a looking of gentle concern. His calloused hands soothed away some of the hair stuck to her head, a strenness overtaking his usually kind looking face as he stared into her eyes. 

“You pushed yourself too far,” he said. 

“Kondo-san,” she managed, but trailed off, not certain what to say even as she failed to push herself away from the firm hold he had on her. 

“Who was supposed to be watching you?” he asked, his brow creased with the intensity of his concern before he sighed. “It doesn’t matter. From now on, you need to make sure that one of the captains is here to oversee your training, Hamamura-san.” 

Even if his voice didn’t drip with sincerity, there was something that burned inside of him… And suddenly, Makoto was filled with the urge to ask him all about himself, about the dreams he’d had that had lead him to this point. He was one half of the heart of the Shinengumi, and it burned inside of him like the sun burned in the sky just before it was about to set, a core part of who he was. 

Slowly, some of the seriousness eased from his expression as he lifted her up into his arms and heaved a heavy sigh. “Toshi won’t be happy about this. He worries more than anyone else that I know, but I’m sure that’s not something I need to tell you, is it, Hamamura-san?” 

“No,” she said, guilt suddenly settling in her stomach like a stone. “I’m-- I’m sorry, Kondo-san. I didn’t mean--” 

“You don’t have to apologize,” Kondo said, always kindly, even as he walked towards the looming temple complex that they now called home. “I’m not upset with you, though I’ll admit, I’m very curious.” 

He paused, and Makoto could see him thinking, his face an entirely different kind of expressive than a man like Hijikata, whose eyes spoke the words his lips never could. 

In Kondo’s face, the eyes were consistent and honest, always matching with the way his features shifted around them, the sort of man who wore his heart in the open when he was relaxed and comfortable around someone. She could see that face turning to stone in the face of distrust, a cold and dark fury, and she hoped that she would never have to see him wear that kind of anger. A man like Kondo, who welcomed the hearts of others into the shelter of his gaze so willingly, should never have to cut himself off from the core of who he was to face down his demons. 

But she doubted life would be that kind to them for long. 

“Curious?” Makoto asked, prompting him to continue. 

“Why were you out here training all alone?” 

Makoto hesitated, looking away from his face to stare instead at the approaching building, watching as familiar faces passed. In the distance she could hear Heisuke’s voice echoing across the compound, angry, along with Nagakura’s laughter, and it brought a smile to her face as she closed her eyes and let the breeze cool her. In truth, she felt ashamed at her reasoning and couldn’t quite bring herself to admit to him, especially not when his arms were supporting her and he’d only just convinced Itou to allow her to stay this morning. 

It seemed to reinforce what a problem she might become if she didn’t improve herself. 

The sound of hurried footsteps drawing nearer caused her to open her eyes only to find herself suddenly nearly face to face with an irate looking Hijikata. Kondo, for his part, looked amused as she was quite suddenly shifted between the two of them, making a started noise as she dropped slightly into Hijikata’s arms. 

“What the hell happened?” he demanded, his voice rough, and Makoto found herself unsure who he was speaking to, looking up into his face to find his lips pressed into a tight line as his eyes smoldered. 

“I... “ she started, only for Kondo to answer in her stead, impeccably calm and reasonable as he spoke to Hijikata. 

“I found her training alone, Toshi. She must have been going for quite some time to wear herself out this way,” he reached out and placed a warm hand on Hijikata’s shoulder, and immediately Makoto felt him relax. “I suppose we’ve just been so busy with the move that no one was paying close attention.” 

“Ugh,” Hijikata’s exhale ruffled her hair, and she found him suddenly staring down into her face as he shifted her weight in his arms, the fact that he was holding her impressive… 

And embarrassing. 

“Well, there’s nothing that can be done about it now,” he muttered, his eyes flickering quickly back towards Kondo. “Thanks. I--”

“Don’t mention it, Toshi,” Kondo’s voice and smile were both warm as he drew away. “I’ll take care of making sure everyone gets in from patrol safely tonight. Why don’t you take care of Hamamura-san?” 

They exchanged a long look, one that Makoto couldn’t entirely read, before Hijikata nodded. “Thanks,” he muttered, offering up his trademark half smile, the one that started from one corner of his mouth. “I’ll be sure to clear this shit up tomorrow, but for tonight... “ 

“I’ll handle it, Toshi,” Kondo reiterated, more firmly this time. “Go. I think you two have a few things to talk about anyway.” 

He didn’t bother saying anything else, leaving her in Hijikata’s arms as he stared after Kondo with an intense expression on his face, one that tended more towards confusion than annoyance. With a sigh, he turned his eyes back towards her and shifted her in his arms before turning around to walk the rest of the way on his own, saying nothing as he cradled her against his chest. 

“You should be more careful,” he said after a moment, heaving a sigh from deep within his chest. “You’re not used to this kind of thing, Hamamura. One of the first things you learn is how to pace yourself so you build up endurance.” 

She felt him shift as he slipped out of his sandals and moved quietly across the floor, leaving her more and more embarrassed the more people saw her in his arms. Turning her head, she hid her face in his shoulder so that she didn’t have to see people staring at them, though Hijikata himself didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. In fact, she could only describe his arms as comfortable, his body warm and strong, his hold on her certain. 

“I’m sorry,” she muttered after a moment, exhausted enough that she’d felt herself being lulled to sleep by the rhythm of his steps. “I…” 

Makoto sucked in a breath, fearing telling the truth but knowing that she must, at the same time. There was no way she could keep it from him, not with how penetrative his gaze was, and more than that… 

More than that, they were … something. 

They shared something between them and she couldn’t see herself keeping it for long if she wanted this to grow. There was no way she could rightfully hide from him, not when these kinds of relationships… If it wasn’t the result of an omiai… This kind of thing should be based on mutual trust. 

“I don’t want to burden you,” she said, her voice resolute. “You’ve done so much for me, and--”

“Don’t be an idiot, Hamamura,” he muttered. “We’re using excuses to keep you prisoner. You get that, right?” 

“That’s dependant on how I see it, isn’t it?” she asked him, looking up into his face just as he paused outside of her room, staring back down into her eyes with his typically intense expression. 

This time, it was unreadable, though something in it made her heart jump to her throat. All Makoto could do was swallow as he slowly lowered her feet to the ground so that he could open the shoji, strands of black falling into his bright eyes as he pulled the screen open and guided her inside. It shut behind him with a soft noise, the world beyond these walls so dark now that the entire room was bathed in deep violet and dark blue, only a bit of red light from the sun cast onto the tatami below. 

But even in the darkness, Makoto could see his glittering eyes, filled with purpose and intent.

Slowly, Hijikata’s shadow form moved across the room, lighting her lamp with graceful movements before he turned to her and then kneeled down, reaching out to the tie on her hakama. She froze, but he didn’t stop, pulling them away from her legs and tossing them into a corner as he turned those eyes on her, his pale face more serious than she had seen it in awhile. 

“You’re not a burden,” he said, finally breaking the heavy silence that had settled between them. “You work hard and you don’t take shit from anyone. There’s a good head on your shoulders, and you do as much as anyone can reasonably expect of you… Sometimes even more than that.” 

“I... “ 

But he cut her off, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing as his eyes bored into hers. 

“I’m serious,” he said. “You’re not a warrior, just like the kid. You shouldn’t have to be to be able to hold your own or be worthy of our respect. There are more ways to fight than with a sword.” 

“But if I can’t defend myself, I’m just a liability,” she argued, a surprised noise making its way past her parted lips as he suddenly pulled her against his chest. 

“I thought I told you to stop being a moron?” he asked her, hand reaching up to stroke the back of her head. “Come on, do you really think I can’t protect you?” 

“It’s not that I don’t think you can,” she said, her voice muffled by his shoulder as she reached out to loosely wrap her arms around him, “I just… You have to protect so many people. I don’t want you to have to worry about me, Hijikata.”

He sighed and his grip on her tightened, his hand pausing so that his fingers could wind through the strands of her still-sweaty hair. Makoto could hear him thinking, the sound of it loud in the near silence of her room, louder than the flickering of the flame in the lamp or the sound of bugs beginning to sing outside. 

It was louder, even, than the beating of her own heart. 

“You’re not gonna stop me from worrying,” he said at last. “I want you to learn to defend yourself, but driving yourself to this point isn’t helping any. You need to learn moderation or you’re just gonna burn out, and then what? You’re not any good then, not even to yourself.” 

Moderation… 

Makoto breathed out, feeling suddenly like she was putting upon him. 

She’d been working too hard… He was right. There was so much she’d been worrying about, and she wasn’t putting her trust in the Shinsengumi the way she should, the way she knew she could. This was what they were trained for, and they had taken her into their custody, sworn to protect her… All she could do was use her abilities to help them, but she still felt so useless, and her resolve to make something more of herself didn’t vanish. 

In fact, it only burned more brightly inside of her own chest, the emotion lodged her her throat as she pressed her face further into Hijikata’s embrace. 

“You make me want to be… a better person,” she said at last, the words little more than an exhale into the fabric of his kimono. “I want to be stronger for you, strong enough that I can match the kind of man you are.” 

Hijikata didn’t say anything, but she could feel that he wanted to. 

Maybe… He just didn’t have the words. 

And if he didn’t, she would wait for him until he did, here in the circle of his arms. 


	8. The Same Road, Again and Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the chapters usually have three parts, but in all honesty this was seeming kind of weird with the part that will now be the first part of chapter 9 tacked to the end of it. Thematically and emotionally, it just works better this way. 
> 
> Also, not the rating change.

“The Shogun is coming to Kyoto?” she asked, watching Hijikata nod brusquely in response. 

“I’ll need you to write a few letters for me,” he said, pouring over the documents on his desk. “None of these are private business, so I need them to look good.” 

Makoto laughed a bit, reaching out for the brush and inkstone as she sat so close to him that their shoulders brushed when she moved. It had been this way for awhile now, long enough that she had grown comfortable in the routine… Though today was a bit different from usual. Outside, she could hear the chattering of the men as they were gathered for their physical exams, a courtesy of one Doctor Matsumoto, their voices echoing through the halls. 

“And they can’t look good when your writing is so rushed that you can barely tell sa from ki,” she said, glancing towards him with a small smile on her lips. 

“Shut up,” he muttered, though there was no real force behind it. “I’ll dictate them to you later. Right now, I have shit to deal with here -- reports about ronin causing all kinds of fucking problems. Extortion, intimidation, robbery, murder… The usual bullshit.” 

“So what you’re telling me is that you need to concentrate,” Makoto said as she leaned forward, pressing a kiss against his right temple. “I understand. I’ll go and see if Yukimura needs any help with anything.” 

She started to get up, but he grabbed her wrist and then quickly pulled her toward him for a proper kiss. As fleeting as it was, as much as she was growing to the use of the feeling of his body heat and the feeling of his chapped lips against hers, there was always something incredibly sweet about his kisses. Makoto could never quite put a name to what it was, but it almost made sense, in a way. 

Hijikata was a reserved man who felt deeply about a great many things, and the expression of his affections toward her… 

It had a way of making her feel warmed from within. 

“I’ll let you know when I need you,” he said as he released her wrist. “Try to stay away from the room where Matsumoto-san is doing the examinations… Unless you want to see a lot of naked men.” 

She laughed, pushing herself to her feet at last, smiling down at him with her eyes, dropping her voice as she spoke to him. “There aren’t many men I want to see without clothes, Hijikata. I’ll be sure to take your advice.” 

He snorted but said nothing else, and Makoto quietly slipped from the room, walking through the hallway on her way to find Yukimura. Recently, the young woman had seemed caught up in her chores, doing this and that as she helped the Shinsengumi around their base in whichever small ways she could. She had a good work ethic and a strong sense of duty, though Hijikata frequently complained to Makoto about her lack of confidence… 

Something that made more and more sense to Makoto the more she heard about the way Yukimura Kodo had raised his daughter. 

In truth, it reminded her of the way she herself had been raised by her father. 

A woman must always defer to her father and mother in her decisions, until she is married and then she must defer to her husband. Even if she is well-educated, she must not make a show of her education and use her knowledge, instead, to benefit the family. It is her duty to learn to manage a household -- she must mend, cook, clean, and do all other manner of things in order to ensure the household runs smoothly. And then she must also raise her children to serve society just as well, for the cornerstone of every good buddhist household is a mother who instructs her children in the correct way of behavior. 

Nevermind that society was built on the ambitions of men and women who asked for more. 

No child could possibly be born with such ambitions, nor would stepping outside of the carefully drawn lines ever be acceptable. 

If you were not submissive by nature, you must learn to be.

If you were not beautiful, you must accept it as a blessing, for it meant that you would never be inconvenienced by the desires of a man and would make a good, dutiful husband an appropriate match. 

And that was why… 

It was why…

She paused, listening to the distant sounds of conversation between the men of the Shinsengumi, closing her eyes so that her lashes rested against the swell of her cheeks. The sound of boards creaking with movement… The soft grunts of exertion in the yard… It was all comforting to her, like she had finally come home. 

There was something about this place that made it feel different from others, something that she was certain had to do with the quality of men that called it home. 

Men like Kondo and Hijikata. 

The way she had been raised was the reason why she was drawn to this way of life, and it was why the phrase ‘Edo woman’ had started to fill her with a sense of pride. Makoto had never thought to find a man who was actually attracted to her stubbornness, who liked the fact that she was able to argue with him. The thought of it still made her chest feel tight, especially when she thought about the way he’d hold her sometimes when they’d talk and he would praise her strength of will. 

Pausing when she heard the sound of practice from outside, she paused and quickly made her way towards the noise, watching from afar as two young men she didn’t readily recognize came at Okita with practice blades drawn. They wore determined expressions on their faces, though Okita himself looked completely nonplussed as he grinned, deflecting their blows with little effort and then returning them with bruising force. 

Crossing her arms over her chest, she let a smile spread across her lips at the sight and couldn’t help but feel amusement blooming inside of her chest. 

“Oh, Hamamura-san,” a cheerful voice from beside her said, prompting Makoto to look to her lect, down into Yukimura’s face. “I haven’t seen you yet today. Have you had a good morning?” 

“I’ve spent most of it working with Hijikata in his office,” she replied, watching as one of the young men paused and pushed his sweaty dark-red hair from his grey eyes, heaving a breath. “Are you working on the mending, Yukimura-kun?” 

The young woman nodded, wincing as Okita struck at the man with the dark red hair and sent him sprawling into the dirt. Still, he picked himself back up, looking around and blinking slowly when he realized that there was another person sitting near Yukimura. He moved slowly, straightening his cream-colored kimono as he turned his pale eyes towards her, frowning as if in concentration. 

Then, his eyes drifted back towards Yukimura, and he spoke, “Yukimura-senpai? Who is this?” 

“Oh!” Yukimura smiled broadly at him, looking up into his face like he was a sky scattered with stars, “this is Hamamura-san, Souma-kun. She lives here with us and assists Hijikata-san with his work.” 

He blinked at her slowly, some of the stiffness in his features vanishing as he smiled softly at her, though it returned when he turned to Makoto and bowed formally. The young man had the manners of someone raised as a samurai, but there was a kind of earnest intensity to him, contained within his every rigid movement. 

“Hamamura-san,” he said as he straightened. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Souma Kazue, and I serve the Shinsengumi as a page to Commander Kondo.” 

“Souma-kun,” she said with a laugh, “you don’t need to be nearly that formal with me. I’m not anyone that important.” 

“Eh, Hamamura-san?” Okita’s voice asked from just behind the young man, who blinked owlishly when Okita leaned against his shoulder, “but aren’t you Hijikata-san’s lover?” 

Souma’s face immediately turned a bit pink as he looked at her, and she could just imagine what he was thinking. Casting a glare at Okita, she pushed the thought of how grey his skin looked from her mind and leaned forward, looking up into Souma’s face as she spoke. 

“Okita-kun’s just trying to mock you,” she said to him. “It’s true that Hijikata-san and I share a special relationship, but we’re not formally lovers. In fact, I thought we’d agreed to keep that information quiet, considering the way that Itou-san might react to it.” 

Okita laughed loudly, wiping the sheen of sweat from the back of his forehead with his sleeve. “You caught me, Hamamura-san,” he said as he slapped Souma on the shoulder heartily. “You don’t have to worry, Souma-kun. The two of them haven’t done anything intimate yet anyway. Hijikata-san is still too uptight about everything.” 

Slipping off the sandal that dangled from her foot, Makoto tossed it Okita, who dodged it while laughing at her. The other young man chose this moment to approach, blinking at them in confusion, and more introductions were given, though that didn’t mean either Yukimura or Souma had stopped staring at her. 

“Are you really Hijikata-san’s…” Souma trailed off and Makoto sighed, glancing toward Yukimura’s blushing face; at least the other young man, Nomura, simply looked confused. 

“Yes,” she answered him, then smiled. “Does it bother you because he doesn’t seem like the type, or because you’d rather not imagine your employer in compromising positions?”    
“I… I just…” Souma trailed off, his cheeks coloring, “I wish to pay you proper respect, Hamamura-san.” 

The words caught her off guard and she found herself laughing, joined by Okita a moment later as he sat beside her on the porch and leaned against her shoulder. They exchanged a glance, Okita’s green eyes sparkling with amusement, the sound of their voices drawing the attention of others as Harada and Heisuke stepped out into the yard. Heisuke looked between them, confused, his eyes settling on the flustered looking Yukimura, while Harada just sighed and shook his head in quiet amusement. 

“The Vice Commander’s lover isn’t an official position, Souma-kun,” Makoto said with a smile as she caught her breath, Okita still leaning heavily against her shoulder. 

“You sure about that, Hamamura-san?” Harada asked, the smile on his lips promising that his next words would be a truly horrible joke. “Isn’t your official position underneath him?”

Heisuke groaned and Okita’s laughter resumed as he grasped at Makoto’s kimono and buried his face in her shoulder. Nomura’s look of confusion suddenly seemed to clear, though Yukimura and Souma looked even more mortified, if possible… Yukimura’s face turning bright red while Souma’s went a bit pale. 

Slipping her other sandal off her foot, Makoto tossed it at Harada, who chuckled and side stepped it with a smile. 

“I’m sure you’d like to know all about my official position,” she said, narrowing her eyes playfully, “but I think talking about it more might scandalize poor Yukimura-kun.” 

“I-- I just…” the young woman gasped. “I had no idea that the two of you were together that way! I… Um…. Hijikata-san is always so scary…” 

“But aren’t you his page, senpai?” Nomura asked, tilting his head to one side like a confused puppy… Which seemed to Makoto to be a good way to describe him. 

“Hijikata-san can be an intimidating man,” Souma said, immediately jumping to ‘senpai’s’ defense. “He has an air of command that makes him seem unapproachable, so I understand where Yukimura-senpai is coming from.”

“Hijikata-san is a bit unapproachable,” Heisuke said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck in what looked like reluctant agreement, “but he’s a good guy. You just have to know that he’s less prickly than he looks.” 

“Less prickly than I look, am I?”

The voice drew the attention of everyone in the immediate area, Makoto looking up into Hijikata’s face to find him staring into Heisuke’s face with his arms crossed over his chest. He wore a severe expression, but like usual his eyes were soft and filled with an old amusement, the kind that came from nostalgia. 

“Oi, Hijikata-san!” Heisuke explained, nearly jumping out of his skin as she spun around to look at the man in question, Harada steadying him with a single hand. “How… How long have you been standing there?” 

The smile that spread across his lips was the kind that could give a grown man chills, and his violet eyes slid to Harada. 

“I’d be more worried about the position  _ you’ll _ be in if you start spreading rumors, Sano,” he said, breathing out a sigh as she slipped into his sandals, his eyes shifting briefly towards her with a curious expression flickering in the depths of his gaze. “I have enough shit on my plate without having to deal with all the trouble you idiots cause me day in and ay out.” 

Harada cast Hijikata a sheepish smile, but there was no guilt in his expression, his hand patting Heisuke’s shoulder as he soothed the disgruntlement from his young friend’s posture. “You should let yourself be happy, Hijikata-san,” he said in his usual pleasant tone. 

“Whether or not I enjoy myself doesn’t matter,” Hijikata replied, leaning down to pick up one of Makoto’s sandals, “you’re still all gonna give me shit about it, aren’t you?” 

Okita chuckled a bit, finally pulling away from Makoto’s shoulder as he grinned at Hijikata for a moment before returning his attention towards Souma and Nomura. “Come on,” he said, waving his hand, “come at me again. I’m getting bored and you’re fun to beat on.” 

“That’s rude, Okita-san,” Nomura grumbled, but regardless he exchanged a look with Souma, who nodded once in response. 

Hijikata’s belabored sigh sounded across the courtyard, daylight shifting across his hair as he walked towards Makoto and placed her sandals on the ground near her feet. They locked eyes, and she suddenly felt her face heat up with the way he was looking at her… Like she was a woman, like he wanted more than just her companionship and conversation. The desire she usually suppressed flared up in her as she sat, locked in place by the power of his eyes, forced to drop her gaze before she gave herself away. 

“Come on, Hamamura,” he muttered, his hand suddenly in her face, “we’ve got work to do.” 

Makoto took a breath and grabbed his hand, hoisted to her feet easily as he lead her back into the building, though she could feel Yukimura’s eyes on her back. Joking about her own love life was all well and good… Until Hijikata himself was involved, and then she preferred to approach the situation delicately. 

Or avoided it altogether. 

After all, things were fine the way they were, so she felt no need to force them… Even though she was certain that they would eventually have to discuss it. Just what did the both of them want? Every moment with him was dangerous, the ochimizu making things even more murky than they would have been based on the political situation alone. 

There would never be any kind of wedding. 

Being with him meant being ‘alone’, in a sense. It meant trusting him to support her without ever getting a formal agreement from him to do so. To stay with him was making herself pariah to society, but… 

In a way, that’s already what she was. 

And she trusted him, more than she had trusted anyone in a long time. 

Because Hijikata gave her the freedom no man her parents had arranged for her to marry ever would have. There was an understanding in his eyes when she talked about her dream and the struggle to achieve it, the same spark of ambition that had lead him here to Kyoto to be a samurai. No matter what, both of them craved that feeling of rightness over any sense of security any normal life path ever could have offered them.

It was what had drawn them together. 

She prayed it would keep him at her side. 

Because very quickly, he was becoming the one thing she couldn’t lose. 

Reaching out, she brushed her fingers across the back of his hand, drawing his eyes to her. Heat traveled through her body, soft as the warming rays of morning sunlight diffused through a shoji screen, and turned brighter at the sight of the small smile he shared with her. A brief touch was all it took to unsettle her stomach, to make her remember how much she had started to ache for him in the most private of ways. 

But now wasn’t the time to think about him filling the lonely hole inside of her. 

It was the time for work, time to move forward with his plans in preparation for the arrival of the Shogun. 

There would be plenty of time for the rest of it later. 

 

\---

 

Days passed lazily, the successes of the Shinsengumi leading to be relied upon in new ways… Though she knew that the Aizu and other government officials still did not treat them with the full respect they deserved. She’d had countless conversations with Kondo and Hijikata over late night tea about the politics of the era during hours when Itou insisted upon his beauty sleep and left his duties to his counterparts. 

It was during these times that the ratetsu Sanan would join them, though only on occasion, his calm voice a comfort to the irate and overburdened Hijikata and the wary was compassionate Kondo. How many times had they both expressed worry over the Choshu Expeditions? Over the undue influence Sakamoto Ryouma seemed to possess? Over the fact that the East and West sides of the country felt more and more disparate, and how things seemed to be shifting once to a state of tension that whispered of war? 

And then there was funding, and the matter of how little of it the Shinsengumi actually seemed to receive. They were well compensated personally… But it was a matter of choosing to spend their stipend on equipment or personal expenses. They were constantly concerned that neither the Aizu nor the Tokugawa truly understood the full implications of failing to protect the security of the Capitol… And because they didn’t see the direct effects of it themselves… 

Well, with that in mind…

She understood why Kondo was so hopeful about this visit. 

“Do you think that they’ll pay attention?” she asked one night as she nursed a warm cup of tea between her hands. “Or do you think that this is really nothing more than a show of force to attempt to prove to the people the bakufu is still invested in expelling the foreigners?” 

“If we could expel them, we would have done it by now,” Hijikata muttered, Makoto not failing to notice the heavy frown that crossed Kondo’s features. “I knew they’d fuck things up the moment I saw them in Edo Bay, but the truth is… I don’t really think we have the manpower or technology to drive them back.” 

“But we can’t end up like China and India,” Kondo replied, his voice firm. “I shudder to think about living in a world where men from the West control our government through the opium trade or force us to wear their clothing and speak their languages.” 

He bowed his head, his dark brows drawn together,  pale flame of the torch reflected in eyes that looked amber in the dim room. “We would lose everything that we are,” he continued emphatically. “I don’t want to see our proud culture reduced to nothing more than a memory by the boots of the Western world.” 

“I want to see us integrate Western technology,” Makoto said quietly, waiting a few moments for the conversation to lull before she spoke. “The Choshu had their coastal defenses crushed by the Westerners… So until we learn to adapt to their new technology, I’m afraid we’ll be at a disadvantage.” 

Kondo stared at her for a moment and then sighed heavily, staring broodingly into his tea as he dropped his gaze towards his lap. She could feel his reluctant even without looking at his face, something about the way he sat, perhaps the slope of his shoulders, a stark reminder of just how much he was putting on the line for the Tokugawa. 

The same Tokugawa who were now attempting to bargain with the foreigners, who lorded power over them, who had inflated the markets with their goods and nearly cost Kondo his livelihood. She’d heard the story from Hijikata, about why they’d come here, about the promise of the money and Kondo’s rejection due to his status as a peasant-born man. 

That burden had to weigh heavily on his shoulders, just as the burden of remaining loyal to those who lied to their people must. 

But loyalty was everything to a samurai, and Kondo Isami would never forsake his Lord Tokugawa Iemochi, nor anyone who came after him. 

“Hate to say it, but I agree,” Hijikata muttered. “I don’t want to have to rely on them for anything, but…” He heaved a sigh and took a long drink of his tea, draining it down to the dregs before he spoke again. “Without their technology, we’ll never be able to stand up to them on a global scale. Just wish it didn’t have to be that way.” 

“Things change,” Makoto said, “just like people. We can’t expect the bakufu to stay the way it is forever. They’ll have to adapt or we won’t stand a chance against the Western advance… And I don’t want to see Japan suffer the same fate as China. Our people are too proud.”

“You’re both right, but… How do we do that without losing who we are? Without losing the samurai?” Kondo asked them both. 

Hijikata pressed his lips together, only looking up when Kondo stood and wished them both a good night, leaving a heavy air behind him. They sat in silence after he left, the shoji closing with a not of finality that made a deep sensation of loss well inside of Makoto’s chest. 

Even if she didn’t want to admit it, it seemed like the sun was setting on this era and a new one was dawning. No matter how well things were going now, no matter who won in the end… This would change the nature of the bakufu itself. History was being written in these days, a reminder of how important the things she might write would be years from now, long after they had all died. 

“You okay, Hamamura?” Hijikata asked, his rough voice finally breaking the silence. 

“I should be asking you that,” she said as she shifted, turning her head towards him. “Kondo-san is right… You could risk losing everything you’ve ever fought for. The samurai could be washed into the ocean with the changes that are coming, and that would mean that…”

“It’s not just about the swords.” 

His voice was firm as he cut her off, their eyes locking as the sound of his words drifted through the room like smoke from the end of a pipe, saturating the very air around them. “There’s more to it than that,” he said as he flexed his right hand, his eyes falling briefly on his palm. “The poetic parts of it that you always hear about are true just as much as the gore and danger and all the shit you have to risk for it. As long as there’s that spirit the samurai won’t die, even if we have to put down our swords one day.” 

She closed her eyes, having a difficult time imagining Hijikata ever putting down his sword short of it being taken from him by force, but there was also the unmistakable note of truth to what he said. It was impossible for her to imagine any men more suited to the role of samurai than the Shinsengumi, more samurai than Hijikata and Kondo… 

“So you’ll fight to keep that alive until the end?” 

Makoto looked at him, inhaling sharply when he reached out to her, pulling her into his side with a tug of his arm. Her head fell against his chest, the warmth of his body easing the tension from her shoulders and allowing her to relax, only melting into him further when he began to gently stroke her jaw with the backs of his fingers. 

“Being a warrior means being ready to die at any time,” he told her, “but there’s more to it than that.” 

Her breath hitched as he shifted, slowly pushing her to the tatami mats beneath him, his hands braced on either side of her head as he stared down into her face. 

Caged underneath him, black strands of his hair creating a curtain that kept her focused on his eyes, so bright and intense that Makoto felt they might set her ablaze at any moment. Hijikata tipped his head forward ever so slightly, their noses brushing together, her entire body tensing in anticipation of… _ something  _ as he shifted closer to her, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. 

“You need to have something that matters enough to you that you’d die to protect it,” he explained. “There needs to be a dream, a person, something that keeps you grounded in this world. Otherwise, you’re just reckless and your blade won’t strike with conviction.” 

_ Conviction…  _

She breathed out just in time for their lips to brush together slowly, Hijikata’s touch as gentle as it was sure. Behind his every move a slow fire burned, transferred to her from his touch and spreading from their joined mouths through the rest of her body. This is what he wanted, and there was no way for him to hide it when he was so close to her, their legs tangling together as they continued to kiss. 

Reaching up, she wrapped an arm around his neck, deepening the kiss to press her tongue into his mouth. She felt his breath hitch as he shifted, supporting his full weight on one arm as the other reached down to grasp her hip with his elegant fingers. His touch was firm and sure, and again the word ‘conviction’ came to mind, shivering down her spine as they broke away from one another to catch their breath. 

“Something you’d die for, huh?” she asked, tracing his lips with a finger and watching as his eyes turned a shade darker until they were the color of the midnight sky. “Something you’d give up everything for…” 

Hijikata kissed her fingertip, peering at her from underneath his long lashes, a storm of desire raging somewhere beyond his calm expression. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, “and you and I both know you’ve already got something like that.”

“So do you,” she said, moving her hand to press it against his chest, pulling his lips back to hers with her other hand. 

The kissed again and again, Hijikata’s lips and tongue memorizing every part of her mouth, his body shifting so that they both laid side by side on the floor. Makoto ran her hand over his clothed chest, exploring it as one of his palms pressed flat against her back and pushed her flush against him. His entire body was hard and lean, and even through his hakamashita she could feel his muscle move as he did, fitting the two of them together. 

Desire curled inside of her stomach, hot coals stoked into a flame when he pulled her hair out of its restraints and wound his fingers into it, tearing his lips away from hers to mouth a hungry path down her jaw. All she could hear was the sounds of their breathing, the shifting of cloth as they moved, and the flickering of the flame within the lamp, the entirety of her other senses completely consumed with Hijikata. Skin that tasted like sweat, warm, soft cloth between her fingers, the smell of masculinity driving her thoughts further and further from the front of her mind as she yielded to some instinct she usually ignored. 

It didn’t even matter why it was happening right now, her own inadequacies washed away in the face of the heat he traced across her skin with his mouth and hands. Maybe they both needed the comfort, maybe everything felt like it could topple any moment so they were just clinging to one another for stability, but… 

But when his hands pulled her collar open and his teeth scraped down her neck? 

The why stopped mattering, and her entire world became Hijikata and the blinding passion behind his every touch. 

“Shit,” he hissed the word against her skin, fingers wound into the fabric of her hakamashita as he tipped his head up to stare at her. “Hamamura--” 

Makoto didn’t want him to talk and wound her fingers through his hair to pull his lips back towards hers, pressing her thigh forward to slip in between his legs as she slowly started to rock herself against him. His breath hitched into her mouth, the noise choking off into a long groan as his hands shifted to grasp her hips with bruising strength and pulled the both of them even closer. 

She could feel him growing harder, their hips pressed together as they both moved, wet heat stirring in her stomach and spreading slowly to the space between her thighs. 

His lips broke away from her again and he stared into her eyes, reaching up with one of his hands to brush his calloused fingers along the shell of her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. As if he couldn’t help himself, he pressed his lips to hers again, the moment brief and affectionate, his gaze dark with lust and something more as he broke away. 

Hand shifting to cup her face, he licked his lips and then spoke in a rough voice choked with desire, “not on the floor.” 

They moved, crawling slowly back across the floor to his futon, hands tugging at fabric along the way to discard items of clothing that would no longer be needed. Bit by bit, she saw him… Broad shoulders, strong arms, his hair falling around his shoulders like a curtain of midnight once he’d pulled it from its restraints. Never before had Makoto seen anything - anyone - so beautiful, her breath catching as he finally pressed her into the soft bedding, reaching out to wrap her arms around his neck. 

Hijikata, warm, strong, beautiful… And right now, as he looked at her with starlight glittering in the depths of his violet eyes… 

Hers. 

Completely and utterly. 

And with that, she drew him close and let him take her to places she had never been before. 

By the time they had finished, she felt boneless and satisfied, leaning against his chest as he idly stroked her hair. A strange sense of closeness was stoked deep in her soul, one that she sensed would not be easily extinguished as she tucked her face against his chest and breathed deeply as the night air cooled her bare skin. She didn’t need to see his face to know that he was content, for once, his touch so gentle that it spoke for him more than words could. 

“You know,” she muttered against his skin, “I think I needed that more than I realized.” 

A snort was her only response for a moment before he pulled away, rolling over on his side to face her before wrapping her in his arms again. Their legs tangled, his body heat keeping her warm, and he smiled at her, looking so much younger than he usually did with his black hair hanging into unusually gentle eyes. 

“Funny how it works, isn’t it,” he replied, his lips twitching upward into that rare, private smile. “Don’t know how pent up you get until it all comes out.”

His hand played up and down her back soothingly and his eyes slipped closed, his smile melting into something soft and wistful as he breathed out a sigh. “You learn pretty early on once you get yourself into this kind of life that you have to learn to take pleasure in the small things. I never wanted to drag you into this but…” he trailed off, his other hand winding through the strands of her hair. “If this is where you wanna be… If being here like this is really what you’d die for…”

“I don’t want anyone to forget you,” she said, pressing her lips to his chin. “When I think about the Shinsengumi, I’m filled with an emotion I’ve never felt before and I feel like I’ve finally found my purpose.” 

Surprise flickered across his features but it quickly faded into understanding, flashing through his eyes like lightning in the summer sky. Hijikata’s hold on her tightened, filled with a strength that promised her he wouldn’t let her go, not any time soon, not if he could help it. 

“Yeah,” he breathed against the top of her head as he buried his face in her hair. “Yeah, Makoto, me too.” 

Makoto wrapped her arms around him, returning his embrace as she pressed her lips to his throat and nuzzled into him. This close, she could hear the steady beating of his heart and for once all her troubles felt far away, much farther than they had for a very long time. His presence - Toshizo’s presence - gave her the reassurance that this was the right path, the path that she should be walking with him. 

And maybe they weren’t the exact same destination, but… 

They shared a road. 

Even if things didn’t turn out in the end, doing this was worth more than anything else was. Telling their story, the story of the men who’d welcomed her with open arms when no one else would? 

That was worth more than anything to her. 

The samurai and all they stood for would never really die as long as what they fought for survived them. Words had the power to breathe life into old dust and shadows, the haunted remains of a bygone age, and bring them back for a single, shining moment. Even if one day Hijikata Toshizo and Kondo Isami went the way of Oda Nobunaga, her words would immortalize them. 

Whatever they did, whoever they were… 

It would matter. 

“I’d choose to stay,” she said. “Again… and again… and again…” 

Her words seemed to encourage him, and he flipped her onto her back, looming over her with a gleam in his eye. Leaning forward, he kissed her, and when he pulled back he was grinning, his voice full of traces of desire, “and what about coming again and again?” 

Makoto stared at him for a moment and then laughed, her only answer to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him back down for another kiss. 


	9. Sharing a Burden, Bound by a Drink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I battled writer's block to bring you this. 
> 
> I couldn't be more happy that I finally managed to write anything at all.

The day that the Shogun was to arrive, Kondo and Toshizo left early after entrusting her with Okita’s wellbeing. It wasn’t something he was too pleased about, but he was still ill… Something that left Makoto with a sense of unease, though she hadn’t had time to really think or process anything recently. They’d been so busy preparing that she hadn’t had time to think, though… 

She’d apparently had enough time to essentially move into Toshizo’s room. 

But now she’d been left with nothing to do but entertain Okita, who currently sat across from her hunched over a shogi board, an unreadable grin on his face. 

“So, Hamamura-san,” he said conversationally, “are you upset that you’re stuck here babysitting me for Hijikata-san while the action’s going on elsewhere?” 

“A bit,” she admitted, “but Hijikata will tell me what happened, and if I need more details I can just ask the others. Besides… You’d be bored without me here to mock incessantly. Admit it.”

“Eh?” Okita asked, and then started to laugh, his grin spreading from ear to ear. “Looks like I can’t fool you. Of course… You’re not nearly as fun to mock without Hijikata-san here.” 

He paused and his clever green eyes swept over her, his smile slowly morphing from something cheeky to something a bit more knowing as mischief began to dance in his gaze. He leaned forward, his elbow on his knee, chin in hand, lips splitting to show his teeth in a truly cat-like display. 

“Of course, you and Hijikata-san aren’t keeping much from each other now days, are you?” 

She had been expecting something like this, but her face still heated a bit at the words as she thought of the duality of Toshizo’s strength and incredible tenderness. He was rough, but at the same time there was something beautiful about him, though she knew she couldn’t really express that to Okita… Not without risking him telling every member of the Shinsengumi what she had said down to the last detail. 

“You already know the answer to that,” she said, fixing him with a stare. 

Okita laughed, his eyes still sparkling brightly. “You’re no fun, Hamamura-san… But you’re right. You and Hijikata-san seem to have finally decided what you want.” 

His face grew more serious and he leaned back where he sat, supporting his weight on both of his arms as he gazed at her. Eyes glinting, he looked more adult than he ever had to her in that moment, his eyes as piercing as they would have to be to see through the lies and affectations of ronin and revolutionaries. 

“I guess this means you’re in this with us for the long haul, huh…?” 

“Yes,” Makoto nodded, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I’m not going to leave Hijikata or the Shinsengumi any time soon. I plan to stay here and tell your story until the end… No matter what kind of end it is.” 

“Even if it’s a bad one?” he asked, and there was a flash of… something in his eyes, something bright and painful. 

It moved her, and she found her fingers hovering over the pieces on the board as she swallowed before dropping her hands into her lap. In the soft light filtering through the paper screens from the garden outside, she could see just how pale he was, could see how tired he looked, that his cheeks were beginning to come hallows. Toshizo’s insistence that he stay behind suddenly rang loudly in her memory, and she swallowed thickly, just in time for him to begin coughing, bracing himself against the board with one hand with the other covered his mouth. 

The noise rattled, the same cough her uncle had before he’d been taken by consumption, rasping and wet. 

Makoto stood, walking across the floor to pour him tea and waiting for his coughs to subside. She wasn’t surprised when his hand came away red, the blood seeping from between his long fingers, which he stared at as if they weren’t a part of his own body. Slowly she reached out, handing him a cloth that had been folded aside of the tea kettle, watching as he slowly came back to himself, green eyes clearing enough for him to take what she was offering him. 

Neither of them said anything for a moment, and even if he weren’t to confess it wouldn’t change the fact that she knew now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he wasn’t plagued by a mere cold. Swallowing back her own feelings on the subject, she handed him the tea next and then went to serve herself some, hoping that it would at least calm her nerves. 

Okita… 

Okita was dying, and not the kind of death a samurai wanted, but.. 

But a slow, painful, death of an illness that was robbing his very soul from him as it took his ability to wield his blade away from him. Throat tight, she took a drink of the now-warm tea, letting it ease away the lump of anxiety and fear in her chest, trying to push thoughts of “what was best” from Okita and the Shinsengumi away. 

Her uncle hadn’t wanted to be treated like an invalid… 

How much greater that desire must be for a samurai.

“Especially if it’s a bad ending,” she said at last, setting her now empty cup down beside her. 

“Eh?” Okita asked, tilting his head as he blinked at her from over the rim of his cup, pulled completely from his own thoughts by the sound of her voice. 

“If the Shinsengumi have a bad end, it means that the Shogunate’s lost something,” she said, “and that means that your reputation might suffer. So if it’s a bad end, it’s even more important for me to write about you…” 

She trailed off and then stood up, pulling the shoji open so that they could look upon the garden. Outside, birds twittered and sang and a wind disturbed the branches of the trees, the world beyond the politics of their life as vibrant and alive as it had always been. It would go on being that way, Makoto thought, even after they were all gone. 

These trees… This ground… 

They had seen many wars and they would see many more. 

“I don’t want the trees to be the only thing to remember the Shinsengumi.” 

Their memory should be written in more than their bark or the circles in their trunks. 

She could feel Okita’s eyes on her, and before long his hand fell on her shoulder, heavy and warm, as they stared out at the garden together. Makoto turned her head as a warm breeze disturbed his chestnut hair, his eyes as sparkling and as full of life as they’d ever been, not the eyes of someone who had given up hope… 

Not yet. 

“You’re a weird woman, Hamamura-san,” he said, his laugh echoing across the grounds, soft and strangely melodic, “but maybe you’re right. I’d hate for everything we did to mean nothing. I want people to remember Kondo-san as a hero, and I’d do anything to protect him and his dream.” 

She nodded, feeling numb, though pain flickered inside of her like the dying flame of a once-bright lamp. It wasn’t something she could hold onto, not if she wanted to still see him the same way… And that, she knew, would be what he wanted the most from her. Okita Souji was not the kind of man to want pity or mercy when his entire world whittled down to fulfilling the dreams of a single man. 

He was family oriented and loyal in a way she could never be, a way she never had been, in spite of all those long nights spent with her sick little sisters or seeing her nieces and nephews born. 

“Is that what your sword is to you?” she asked him. “A tool to fulfill the dreams of the man you’ve dedicated your life to?” 

Okita smiled at her, his green eyes flashing with an odd emotion that she couldn’t quite place, and his hand tightened on her shoulder. “I’m Kondo’s sword,” he said, “so he can point me in whatever direction he needs. I wasn’t really expecting someone who’s not a warrior to get it.” 

He paused and shrugged, laughing a bit, the sound drifting through the air where it hung for a heavy moment, like a shroud. Makoto wrapped her arms around herself, the air around her chill even though it was warm outside, imagining that Okita’s consumption was a spirit that hacked and coughed upon its arrival… Something ill that could still be warded off with prayers and charms for well-wishes. 

But the world of the West was encroaching upon them, and that meant no number of prayers and charms could heal Okita and let him continue on his path as bushi without the sacrifice of his quality of life. 

“You’re not even a member of the Shinsengumi,” Okita continued, “and you never will be.” 

“I don’t need to be a member of the Shinsengumi to understand you,” she said. “Don’t the wives of samurai understand them? Don’t they plunge a dagger into their own bellies when their husband suffers a complete defeat so that her household is not disgraced?” 

“Maybe they did in the Sengoku period,” Okita said with a shrug, “but I don’t think they have in a long time.” 

“If I were a samurai bride, it’s what I would have done,” she said, her voice resolute. “I wouldn’t have hesitated for a moment if it meant bringing honor to my household. I’ll stand beside Hijikata, Okita-kun,” Makoto carried on, turning her head to look at him. “I already promised him that much, and I won’t go back on my word because I have just as much honor to preserve as he does.” 

Okita looked at her for a moment, his eyes blinking rapidly, and then started to laugh so hard that he braced his other hand against her just to stay standing. Makoto was confused, but she was also glad the tension was broken and that he could still let himself go even when he had to know what his own fate would be. 

The sound of his laughter rolling through the garden and out over the veranda was a welcome contrast towards his earlier wet and shuddering coughs. 

“Ah ha….” he managed after a moment, gasping deeply for breath, the corners of his eyes sparkling with tears. “You really are Hijikata-san’s woman, aren’t you? Only he could pick someone who takes everything this seriously.” 

Makoto narrowed her eyes at him and playfully pressed both of her palms against his shoulder, pretending to try to push him away. He just snorted and gripped onto her harder, burying his face in her shoulder as he slouched against her with part of his weight, making them both stumble backwards towards their shogi board. Makoto lost her balance, topping backwards only to find her lap full of a still-chortling Okita, though it didn’t last for long. 

Landing back against the ground, he quickly rolled off of her, staring up at the ceiling with a wide smile on his face. She watched him, noting how young he really was as she looked at his face, eyes closed, that grin lighting up his entire expression that highlighted what roundness of childhood still lingered around his cheeks and jaw. 

She’d first met him as a warrior of the Shinsengumi, but Hijikata had known him for much longer… And Kondo even longer than that. 

To see that little boy you knew so well dying… 

It had to be heartbreaking. 

And maybe that was why they kept him so close. 

Because they loved him the way family was  _ supposed  _ to love each other. 

Oddly enough, the thought put her at ease as she tipped her head back to stare at the ceiling rafters, her mind lost in the shadows between the beams. Makoto reached up, pressing her palm flat against her chest, feeling her own heartbeat and sharing another quiet moment with Okita listening to the world pass them by in a moment here nothing was wrong and all was at peace. 

It was moments like these that she would remember forever, and so she tucked it in her heart, saving it for lonely times in quiet places. 

 

\---

 

“Oni?” she asked breathlessly, curled up on her side one night, Toshizo’s strong arms wrapped securely around her in spite of the heat; a testament to how shaken he was by this when he hated being overheated more than anyone she knew. 

“I don’t know what else they could be,” he said, his voice so quiet that it was almost lost in the humid air between them. “We’ve talked about it again and again, and we all agree that there’s no way in hell they’re anything normal. So if that arrogant bastard says they’re Oni, I’m gonna believe him… Especially since he seems the sort to brag about it until he’s fucking blue-lipped, if you let him.” 

“Oni…” Makoto shook her head, not in disbelief so much as sheer amazement. “What is it like, fighting them? How is it different than fighting another human?” 

Toshi looked at her as his lips slowly drew up into an amused half-smile, the kind that made his eyes sparkle like the part of the night sky thickest with stars. It was that look that was among his most handsome, and one of the ones Makoto could always appreciate, as much as she appreciated the slow slide of his palms up and down her back. 

“When you meet their blades, it makes your bones ring so much that you can taste the impact,” he explained. “It’s metallic, like blood. And the bastards move so fast that you have to put everything you have just into blocking their blows. Shit forces you on the defensive, just like that.” 

“So like a Fury?” she asked quietly, remembering all too well what Sanan had said about them to Yukimura that night. 

“But without the insanity, the bloodlust, or the inability to be in sunlight?” he asked, though it was rhetorical. “Yeah. A lot like a Fury.” 

He shifted, hesitating, his rough fingers running along her jaw as he regarded her with his gentle eyes. Toshi was always so intense, a man whose thoughts could fill volumes of books, and that part of him was what had drawn them together and was part of what held her at his side now. 

Reaching up, she grasped his fingers, dragging them to her lips to kiss the pads. “What else is on your mind?” 

“They came for the kid,” he said, his voice filled with the wavering kind of concern that he held for those close to them. “They say that she’s like them… An Oni.” 

Yukimura wasn’t human? 

That was certainly a shock… But at the same time, it didn’t matter. She was a good young woman, dutiful and kind to a fault, the sort of girl who would one day grow into her own confidence and become the sort of person who could provide safe haven for others. Yukimura was so … normal in every other way that Makoto was positive it’s why she’d won the affections of the men who had taken her into their care. 

Nothing could ever be normal for them again, not since they’d become the Mibu Roshigumi. 

“Do you think she’s taking it hard?” Makoto asked him. 

Toshi snorted, then buried his face in the juncture between her neck and shoulder, his hands stilling in their soothing trails to grip her tightly instead. Makoto returned his embrace, sparing no gentleness for a man who needed so much to be held onto just as fiercely as he held onto everything else. 

“It’s the kid,” he said, voice muffled by her skin, “she takes everything hard. If I don’t give her things to do she makes work for herself because she feels like she’s useless.” 

Makoto let things lapse into silence for a moment, sighing softly as he pressed his lips briefly to her shoulder, his lashes tickling her skin as he blinked. Pressing her fingers between his shoulder blades, she rubbed circles in his tense muscle, listening to him grunt before his slowly started to relax in her arms. 

“I’ll talk with her,” she told him. “I like Yukimura, and she had to be scared that she’s like the bastards who are trying to take her away to do who knows what with her.”

“They think like belongs with like,” he said, his voice a growl as his grip on her tightened. “They’re just like those bastards who think that a peasant can’t be a samurai.” 

“I’d like to see them say that to Toyotomi Hideyoshi,” she said. “How many of the samurai who came before them were peasant-born and how many of them employed peasant-born samurai as vassals?” 

Makoto closed her eyes and exhaled softly, “how did things get so caught up in paperwork and lineages that we’ve lost sight of ourselves amongst the procedure?” 

“I don’t know,” Toshi said, his lips finding her skin again before he pulled away, pressing their foreheads together. “All that matters is what I can do to prove the bastards wrong.” He paused, winding his fingers through the hair at the back of her head, “and yeah, I’d like you to talk to her. She’ll just think I’m trying to scold her. Again.” 

“You  **_are_ ** rough around the edges, Toshi,” she said, smiling as she briefly pressed their lips together, “and she’s so young. I don’t think she understands how much you care yet, though I think she might someday.” 

“Geez,” he said with a soft chuckle, brushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear, thumb traveling along the shell of it. “You’re something else, Makoto.”

She laughed, the sound cut off by his mouth as he kissed her, breaking away only as the sound of footsteps neared his room. His brows furrowed as he pulled himself back into some semblance of dress and Makoto followed suit, dressing just as the footsteps stopped outside of his door. 

“Toshi? Are you awake?” 

“Yeah,” he called back in response to the familiar voice. “Come on in.” 

The shoji slid open and Kondo slipped inside, looking completely unsurprised to see her as he sat down in front of them. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

“If you were, I would have told you to buzz the hell off,” Toshi said in response, though he was smiling. “So… Why the late night visit?” 

“I was finishing up work when I realized you haven’t been home in over a year and I just went back not too long ago,” Kondo said, his golden eyes sliding between the two of them as if his message were for them both. “I think Nobu-san believes I’m keeping you hostage, and since things are going so well…” 

“You want me to go visit her and Sato-san,” Toshi said, his voice strangely flat. “Kat-chan--”

“Toshi.” 

“I have work to do,” Toshi said firmly. “I have things here that need my attention. I can’t just pick up and take the two week trip to Edo. And how long would I even stay? And then it’s another damn fortnight back--”

“Toshi.” 

“That’s over a month of work I’m missing out on right there --”

“Toshi!” 

Kondo’s voice grew forceful in a way that she had never heard it, settling strangely even as his intense face gentled and she watched him shift, moving closer so that he could place his hand on Toshi’s shoulder. Underneath that hand, Toshi relaxed, his sharp gaze turning much softer as he bowed his head and released a breath, accepting the reassuring pat of Kondo’s hand for several moments before he managed to speak again. 

“Okay,” he said, “I’m listening.” 

Kondo smiled and drew his hand away, his eyes flickering back towards Makoto for a moment. 

“I think you should let yourself relax for a bit, Toshi. You’ve always worked hard, even back when I met you in Sato-san’s dojo, but you can’t keep working hard if you don’t give yourself time to relax,” his smile was kind, filled with affection and wisdom in equal parts. “I want you at your best so this isn’t an entirely unselfish wish, but I really think you should take Makoto-san and go to visit your family for a bit.” 

Their eyes locked, molten gold meeting the violet of the night sky lit by the moon and stars, before Toshi reluctantly nodded. “Fine, Kat-chan, have it your way. I’ll leave after I finish preparations for next week’s--”

“I’ll handle scheduling and the reports for the patrols,” Kondo said, his voice still firm. “You should leave the day after tomorrow,” he smiled as he turned to Makoto, “both of you.” 

Toshi set his jaw, but after a moment he sighed and nodded again. 

Kondo smiled, his eyes growing fond. “Kat-chan?” he asked. “It’s been awhile since you’ve called me that. I guess old habits die hard afterall, eh, Toshi?” 

“Kat-chan?” Makoto asked him, allowing herself this bit of curiosity now that it felt like she could speak again. 

“I’ve known Toshi since before I was Kondo Isami,” he told her, “and that’s why I think you should go with him. It would be good for your writing if you saw Hino and the Shieikan for yourself and learned a bit more about Tennen-rishin. You should see Tama and meet Toshi’s family, and you should learn where we all came from.” 

At those words, Toshi’s face seemed to soften a bit before his features quickly grew stormy again, “do you know what my sister is going to think if I bring a woman home with me? Do you know what my  **_brothers_ ** will think?” 

“If you’re concerned about what they’ll think, you could just marry her, Toshi,” Kondo said as if it were obvious, his eyes sparkling as Toshi mouthed at him like a beached fish, Makoto’s own face burning at the suggestion. 

“ _ Marry _ ?” Toshi managed to sputter after a moment, Makoto’s words still stuck somewhere in her throat. “Kat-chan--”

“She lives here anyway,” Kondo pointed out, “and she has to because she’s involved with us now. Besides…” he trailed off and his face turned soft and intimate, making it clear that he was speaking as Kondo Isami the man, not Kondo Isami, Shinsengumi Chief. “I’ve never seen you take to a woman like this before, Toshi. I think that everyone would be happy you’ve finally found a woman to help you share your burden, and your sister and Sato-san could stop worrying about you being cold at night.” 

She watched as Toshi’s eyes went wide, his mouth hanging open, held by the power of Kondo’s gentle and compassionate stare as his fingers flexed in his lap. Slowly he relaxed, turning towards her, reaching out without purpose before his outstretched hand fell back to his side. She could sense his uncertainty, the warmth growing inside of her glowing on her cheeks and replacing all of her own fear as she reached out her own arm and took his hand in hers. 

“I…” she started, trailing off and swallowing before she continued. “I’d never thought marriage would be possible for me, but my family has already cast me aside. There’s no one’s permission to get but mine, and I’d give it to you in a moment.” 

Toshi’s hold on her hand tightened, grasping it tightly with his own and smiling. 

He was so open in front of Kondo, a testament to the trust they’d built over the years. Kondo Isami had to be the only person in the world who could speak to Toshi like this, who could suggest he do anything about his relationships this way… A special privilege, to be sure. And that he trusted  _ her  _ enough to watch them interact? 

That he was holding her hand this way now, so tightly that it felt like he might never release her?

Without ever hearing him say the words, she knew he’d grown to love her as she’d grown to love him. Whatever they felt, it was mutual now, and if they were bound to walk the same road anyway, well…

“I guess we might as well make it official,” Toshi said after a moment of looking at her, turning his head back to Kondo. “Will you help me make the arrangements?”

Kondo beamed at them both, reaching out both of his hands, one falling on Toshi’s shoulder while the other rested against hers. “Of course,” he said, his presence as warm and as bright as sunshine against the side of a hill. “There’s nothing I’d like to do more, in fact. I want to see you both happy.”

His eyes found Toshi’s again and a long look passed between them, one that communicated volumes without a single word ever being spoken. She couldn’t know for certain what it meant, but it seemed like a promise to her, a promise for the future, perhaps one of many such promises shared between them. 

And soon she would be making a promise of her own, one to Toshizo that she wouldn’t break. 

She would walk beside him no matter what happened, and see Hijikata Toshizo, Kondo Isami, and their Shinsengumi to the end of it all. 

 

\---

 

“Hijikata-san,” said the man behind the counter, forcing Makoto to remember that she  _ was _ Hijikata-san now, “your husband left this morning to go for a stroll. He assured me personally that he would return for you before breakfast.” 

There was never just a stroll with Toshizo, and Makoto wondered for a moment exactly what he had been doing out this morning but decided to let it go. Today would be their last major day of travel and Makoto was aching to see completely familiar land again, as nervous as she was to meet Toshi’s family as his wife. 

Wife. 

That was still strange to think about, especially because it felt like absolutely nothing had changed other than how other people now saw them. Not that that really bothered her -- Makoto appreciated the kind of closeness that they had and wouldn’t want anything to compromise it, but she was still his wife now.

Hijikata Makoto. 

It had lead to endless teasing by Okita… And congratulations by Harada and Nagakura, complete with slaps on the back and plenty of sake shared between friends. Heisuke had been beside himself with joy and insisted on toasting to them every three minutes, something not even Hijikata could deny him when he was glowing with happiness. Of course, Yukimura had cried happy tears, and after knowing what she’d gone through recently… 

Makoto was just glad she’d taken some comfort from it. 

Saito’s quiet congratulations, Kondo’s warm acceptance of her into the fold… All of it had culminated in a dream like feeling that she hadn’t really woken up from. She wondered if she would wake up from it any time soon, but it was her life now. Her choice had been cemented by her actions and the nuptial sake, made all the more obvious when she saw Toshizo slip back into the inn, his eyes automatically finding her. 

“You’re up early,” he said. “Getting ready to go?” 

“I was looking for you,” she replied, offering him a smile. 

With his restless mind, it wasn’t really surprising that he’d end up getting up early and going for a walk to clear his head. Toshizo was always thinking, much in the same way that she was, it was just that he didn’t seem to like to be idle and processed things better when he was moving about. It was a part of his personality that she suspected was only somewhat connected to his being a samurai, rooted in something more elemental to his being. 

“Well you found me,” he smiled vaguely, reaching out to place a hand in the middle of her shoulder blades, guiding her back towards the room where she’d already packed most of their things. “Come on. Sato-san and my sister will be expecting us today and we can’t let them down.” 

She watched as his lips twitched into a vague kind of smile, his violet eyes narrowing as he steered them down a hallway into a ground floor room. “She can’t believe that I went off and got married to an Edo girl while living in Kyoto. I don’t think she’s ever going to forgive me that she didn’t get to see me married, but she’s excited to meet you, at least.” 

“Is that what it’s like?” she asked, laughing a bit, “being the baby of the family? Does she always try to mother you like this?” 

“She’s the only ‘mother’ I’ve ever known, except for my brother’s wife,” he said with a wry smile. “You know, she asked about your family and how they feel about this. I didn’t really know what to tell her.” 

“I’ll explain it to your family myself,” she said, then hesitated, picking up her pack and then watching him move with ease as he settled his own over his shoulder. “Do you think it will bother them? Disappoint them?” 

“Maybe it’ll bother Kiroku, but I don’t think Nobu’ll mind, and I’m certain as hell Sato-san won’t,” he placed one of his hands at the swords hanging at his hip the way he did when he was thinking. “I don’t really see Tamejiro having much of an issue with it, either, even if I already broke off the engagement with the girl he introduced me to. I think, in the end, he’ll be happy for me.” 

“You were engaged?” she asked, earning herself that trademark snort. 

“Yeah, but not for long. Tamejiro introduced me to her, but I broke it off because my line of work isn’t exactly safe,” he smiled at her then, reaching out to briefly squeeze her hand as he turned back towards the door. “Well… Come on. I’d like to be able to get all the awkward introductions out of the way tonight before I show you around.” 

She nodded, and the two of them set out once more, the day progressing like every other day for the past two weeks had -- with easy conversation and the occasional laugh. She’d grown used to traveling again, even after such a short time, and the two swords he wore at his side actually made it easy, in a way. People didn’t threaten samurai, as it turned out, and they were left well enough alone by most people… Though the wariness they were treated with vanished the further east they went, a stark reminder of the differences between Kyoto and Edo. 

The differences in food, of course, were welcome. 

She’d forgotten how much she missed the richer, darker flavors of the region until she’d returned home. 

And so the day passed without incident, until evening when they entered proper civilization and they began to encounter more than the occasional person once more. Immediately, eyes were drawn to them, some faces full of surprise, others spread with side smiles… And it was clear to her that Toshizo was at least well-liked here, though she wasn’t surprised. He was a charismatic man with a large personality that commanded attention, and he was incredibly caring, and in a place full of people rougher than those in the west side of Japan? 

He wouldn’t stand out as much.

In fact, he’d even be charming. 

But not everyone seemed happy.

In fact, a woman walking with a small boy froze upon seeing them, her eyes going wide, though the cold stone in Makoto’s gut told her that the fire flashing in her eyes was not focused upon Toshizo. Not with those beautiful dark locks of hair and her pretty, dainty features that looked so much like their mother’s, and certainly not with their father’s dark and penetrating eyes… Just as judgemental as the day Makoto had taken all her worldly belongings and stormed out nearly three years ago. 

“Sister?” Izumi asked before she swept the little boy up into her arms, walking towards Makoto with determination in her every footfall. “What in the world are you doing here? I’d thought you’d run away to the capital and gotten yourself killed.” 

Makoto pressed her lips together, prepared to answer as quickly as possible and leave Izumi behind, but Toshizo took half a step forward to stand between her and her sister. She looked up at him, his jaw sat, hand resting on the hilts of his blades, and saw the annoyance had already seeped into his eyes. 

Reaching out, Makoto put a hand on his arm and squeezed gently, having no real desire to cause a scene here in the street… or really at all. Izumi had seen her and it wouldn’t be long before her mother and father knew she was here, as well. No matter what, there was no way getting out of this interaction now and she didn’t want her husband to have to shoulder the entire burden. They were difficult people to deal with, people who stood on ceremony and did not even slacken their control in front of family. 

She’d always suspected that it was because they were born craftsman and they were trying to make themselves look respectable in the eyes of the world, but the reason didn’t matter to her any longer. She did not fit easily into their well-defined world, which was why she had left and forsaken obligations that would have robbed her of her spirit and quietly taken even her dreams from her. 

To be confronted with that past now… It was difficult, and she would rather just walk away. 

But she knew that if she did, they would never relent and may try to endanger her work and her position with the Shinsengumi, which she couldn’t allow under any circumstances. 

“I’ve returned to this area to meet my husband’s family,” she said, keeping her voice as level as possible. “Do you live in this area, Izumi?” 

“Husband?” Izumi’s lids fluttered several times in clear shock as she turned her eyes towards Toshizo, who had crossed his arms firmly over his chest and was glowering in her general direction. “You abandoned your family duty to marry a…” Her eyes strayed towards the swords at his hip, lips pressing into a dissatisfied smile, “a ronin, sister, really?” 

“And who did you marry?” Toshizo asked before Makoto could stop him, his voice rumbling somewhere in his chest, Izumi once more expression shock at his obvious dialect. “Some craftsman, probably, just like your father. Maybe a farmer, if you’re lucky, but I damn well doubt it.” 

“Pardon?” Izumi asked, shifting her wide-eyed little boy in her arms, too young for Makoto to ever have known him. 

“Your father arranged your marriage,” Toshizo continued, his voice as ornery as a nest of bees agitated by the wildlife. “Your sister made her own choices and she’d die by them. It’s what any warrior would want in his wife, and it’s a life you can’t understand.” 

Izumi made a soft noise of protest, shaking her full head of hair as she looked towards her boy, rocking him on her hip, “and what of any future children you have? Can you provide for them adequately with that sword of yours?” 

Her eyes strayed back to Makoto, a looking of pity written across her delicate features that made her feel nothing but disgust, though she quickly swallowed it. Licking her lips, Izumi continued, her voice just as scolding as any tone their mother had ever used growing up whenever Makoto had stepped out of line. 

“Not only have you overstepped your bounds by marrying out of class, but you’ve married someone who’s little more than a vagabon--”

“Toshi-san?” 

The deep voice came from someplace behind Izumi, and an average looking man wearing a single sword on his hip quickly made his way towards them. He wore a look of concentration on his face that quickly melted into a large grin the closer he came, a look mirrored on Toshizo’s face… Albeit in a more subdued way. 

“Sato-san,” Toshi said, gratefully accepting the clap on the shoulder he received from a man who, while shorter than him, had a large presence. “Are you out here on business…?” 

“I came to look for you,” said the man Makoto only assumed was Sato Hikogoro, “Nobu was worried that it was taking you so long to arrive.” His warm eyes held the sharp edge of intelligence in them, which flashed as they settled on Makoto, “is this her, Toshi-san? The woman you somehow convinced to marry you?” 

“Oi,” Toshi grumbled in the same fond tone she’d heard him use with the Shieikan boys and Iba, “it’s not that much of a miracle. I’m not the same kid I was when I was eighteen and swinging around a stick in your dojo.” 

Sato-san only laughed and then bowed to Makoto, still smiling. Startled, it took her a moment to remember to bow back, but when she did she found him already regarding her fondly. 

“Well, allow me to be the first to welcome you to our family, Makoto-san,” he said. “None of us are really surprised that Toshi-san managed to marry himself an Edo woman, when it comes right down to it. We’re all looking forward to getting to know you while you stay here.” 

“I’m looking forward to it, as well,” Makoto said, glancing around to search for Izumi only to find she had vanished into the late afternoon. “I hope to make a good impression on all of you.” 

“I’m sure you won’t have a problem,” Sato-san replied, reaching out to take her burden from her. “Now come on; the two of you must be quite hungry, and Nobu has been cooking all morning. You know the boys are looking forward to seeing you again, Toshi-san.” 

“I’m looking forward to seeing them, too,” Toshizo replied, casting Makoto a concerned look as his eyes swept over the place Izumi had been moments before, “and to Nobu’s cooking.” 

With the promise of a home-cooked meal ahead of her, Makoto pushed all thoughts of Izumi aside, though she was certain that somehow, someway, this small encounter would come back to haunt her. 


End file.
